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OXONIAK8; 

K. 

CJLANCE    AT     SOCIETY. 

BY  THE  AUTHOR  OF  "  THE  EOUE." 


n'y  a  point  d'annies  que  les  folies  des  hommes  ue  puissent  fournir  uii  voloiae. 

La  Bruytrei. 

— For  I  am— look  to't — 
An  Oxford  scholar,  and  can  do 't. 


IN  TWO  VOLUMES. 
VOL.  I. 


NEW-YORK. 

PRINTED  BY  J.  <$-  /.  HARPER,  82  CLIFF-STREET. 

SOIB  BY  COLLINS  AND  HANNAT,  COLLINS  AND  CO.,  G.  AND  C.  AND  H.  CARVILt,  O.  fi. 
ROORBACH,  WHITE,  GALLAHER,  AND  WHITE,  A.  T.  GOODRICH,  W.  B.  GILLEV,  K 
BLISS,  C.  S.  FRANCIS,  G.  C.  MORGAN,  M.  BANCROFT,  W.  BURGESS,  M. «.  ■•LMBS, 
M'KLRAXn  AND  BANGS.  E.  B.  CLA?TON,>ND  J.  P.  HAVEN;— ALSAMT,  O.  STEKLB,  ASS 
>.lTTtB  AND  CUMMINOS. 

1830. 


INTRODUCTION. 


fNC      Cest  un  metier  que  de  fairc  un  livrc  comijie  dc  faiie  une  pendule. 

La  Bruyere, 

And  a  precious  metier  it  is  indeed  in  these  days  to  make 

a  book  !  To  run  the  gauntlet  of  the  critics  who  do  read  and 

the  critics  who  do  not  read ;  to  be  identified  in  the  columns 

of  a  review  with  all  the  bad  characters  that  figure  in  one's 

pages,  and  to  gain  no  credit  for  any  resemblance  to  those 

who  may  have  a  few  virtuous  propensities ;  to  be  blamed 

on  the  score  of  morality,  for  a  too  correct  representation 

of  nature,  and  to  be  castigated  on  the  ground  of  insipidity 

s^  for  any  tame  departure  from  its  truth.    Such  are  the  risks, 

"  ^  and  such  too  often  the  fate  of  those  who  are  tempted  by 

the  liberality  of  a  publisher  into  the  "  metier  de  faire  un 

livre,"     And  what  could  make  one  bear  the  "  whips  and 

scorns"  of  critics,  but  that  liberality  which  sweetens  the 

.,  labour  of  the  author  and  alleviates  the  pains  of  critical 

"^^castigation.     His  bookseller's  drafts  seem  to  be  imbued 

-^  with  the  power  attributed  to  those  of  Lethe,  and  make  him 

oblivious  of  the  "  critic's  contumely  and   the  reviewer's 

wrong."    The  reader  must  pardon  the  spelling  and  the  pun. 

both  of  which,  perhaps,  demand  an  apology. 

^      The  author"  is  tempted  into  these  preHminary  observa- 

^  tions  by  the  fate  of  the  "  Roue,"  which  was  cried  up  by 

some  critics  as  an  important  lesson  to  the  libertine,  and 

^  .abused  by^  others  for  its  immoral  tendency ;  while  even 

.5  those  who  praised  it  most,  could  not  let  the  poor  author  es- 

^  cape  w  ithout  a  pretty  broad  hint  that  experience  alone 

could  have  dictated  its  pages. 

^     An  author's  own  opinion  of  his  work  can,  of  course, 

r  have  very  little  influence  ;  but  his  avowal  of  his  meaning 

ought  to  have  some  weight:   and  if  the  author  of  the 

'  Roue"  has  himself  any  knowledge  of  the  intentions 


.V  INTRODUCTIOX. 

with  which  that  work  was  written,  they  were  decxledly 
such  as  would  have  helped  that  great  cause,  which  a  man 
who  writes  at  all  ought  never  to  neglect  even  an  humble 
endeavour  to  advance. 

An  author  can  as  little  hope  to  reform  a  vice  without 
an  exposition  of  the  scenes  and  circumstances  con- 
nected  with  its  indulgence,  as  a  surgeon  can  expect  to 
cure  a  wound  from  the  disgusting  appearance  of  which 
he  may  shrink  with  a  sensation  of  false  delicacy.  If  a 
Rou6  had  been  depicted  without  his  vices,  he  would  no 
longer  have  been  a  Roue ;  and  if  his  character  had  been 
palliated  by  any  redeeming  virtues,  that  could  have  ex- 
cited an  interest  in  his  fate,  the  moral  lesson  would  liavr 
been  lost. 

The  two  following  facts  will  perhaps  show  the  differ- 
ence of  opinion  with  regard  to  the  moral  tendency  of 
the  Roue,  more  even  than  the  opposite  criticisms  with 
which  the  work  was  assailed  and  honoured  at  the  time  ot 
its  publication. 

A  Baronet,  rather  celebrated  for  the  care  with  which 
he  educates  his  children,  who  are  now  rising  to  matu- 
rity, went  into  his  school-room,  and  asked  the  governess 
if  she  had  read  the  Roue ;  to  which  she  replied,  as 
many  other  ladies  have  done,  "  Certainly  not !"  with 
a  toss  of  the  head,  and  in  a  tone  which  seemed  to  add 
the  words  "  of  couise"  to  the  denial.  The  Baronet,  lay- 
ing the  book  upon  the  table,  desired  her  to  read  it  instantly : 
saying  that  "  he  would  have  the  governess  of  his  daughters 
read  the  Roue." 

A  lady,  whose  opinion  of  the  work  was  a  little  differ- 
ent to  that  entertained  by  the  Baronet,  absolutely  rushed 
into  a  bookseller's  shop,  with  the  work  in  her  hand,  and 
placing  the  volumes  upon  the  counter,  expressed  hei 
anger  to  the  librarian  for  having  sent  it ;  impugned  its 
morality,  declaimed  against  its  vicious  tendency,  and  de 
sired  that  it  might  be  taken  back.  This  lady  was  a  mar- 
ried woman,  with  a  large  family  of  children,  not  one  ol 
which  could  claim  the  husband  of  their  mother  as  its  fa- 
ther ;  or  ever  even  considered  him  in  that  light. 

So  much  for  opposite  opmioD  ! 

What  would  this  lady  nave  said  to  the  Esthetic  school 


INTRODUCTlfW.  V 

of  Germany,  which  openly  professes  that  "  pleasure,  not 
instruction,  is  the  legitimate  business  of  the  Muses ;"  and 
how  would  she  have  declaimed  against  Karoline  Von 
Woltmann,  for  saying  in  a  preface,  "  The  following  tale 
was  not  intended  as  a  poetical  attempt  to  inculcate  a  moral 
example !" 

If  the  author  may  be  allowed  an  opinion  on  the  sub- 
ject, the  Roue  was  as  much  over-praised  by  some  critics, 
as  it  M'as  over-abused  by  others ;  and  he  derives  some 
comfort  from  the  certainty  that  The  Oxonians  cannot 
at  any  rate  be  mistaken  on  the  score  of  its  moral  tendency. 

Voltaire  said,  "  Le  succes  du  livre  d'Helvetius  n'  est 
pas  etonnant:  c'est  un  homme  qui  a  dit  le  secret  de 
tout  le  monde  :*'  and  he  was  right.  The  author  who 
developes  in  his  pages  those  sentiments  w^hich  live  in  the 
minds  and  hearts  of  every  thinking  being,  is  sure  to  be 
successful.  The  reader  delights  to  peruse  the  expression 
of  sentiments  which  he  feels  to  be  his  own,  though  he 
has  never  perhaps  dared  to  give  them  utterance ;  he  turns 
his  thoughts  from  the  page  he  is  reading  to  his  own  heart 
and  he  there  either  finds  the  same  feelings  existing,  or  is 
taught  the  meaning  of  those  sensations  which  he  has  hitherto 
but  imperfectly  understood. 

The  philosophy  of  human  nature  is  the  history  of  the 
passions ;  a  novel  should  be  the  liistory  of  the  actions 
inspired  by,  and  of  the  consequences  resulting  from 
them ;  and  one  of  the  grand  criterions  of  a  good  novel 
is,  when  the  generality  of  readers  can  exclaim,  "  So  should 
I  have  acted  ;"  "  So  should  I  have  thought ;"  and  "  So  do 
I  feel." 

The  Oxonians  is  written  upon  this  principle  ;  there  are 
no  immaculate  heroes,  no  angelic  heroines.  It  is  a  simple 
picture  of  every-day  existence ;  and  its  dramatis  personae 
are  characters  that  may  be  recognised  in  any  extensive 
circle  of  acquaintance  in  an  every-day  world.  It  is  a  his- 
tory of  those  passions  and  follies  that  fill  up  and  give  their 
colour  to  the  scenes  of  life  ;  with  an  attempt  to  give  those 
passions  and  follies  their  true  names,  and  to  strip  them  of 
that  false  varnish  with  which  a  youthful  imagination  and 
the  sophistry  of  the  times  are  too  apt  to  conceal  their  "ten- 
dency and  to  gloss  over  their  dcformitv. 

1* 


VI  INTRODUCTION. 

These  may  be  beaten  tracks,  but  it  may  be  truly  said 
with  our  titlepage,  that  "  II  n'y  a  point  d'annees  que  leit 
folies  des  hommes  ne  puissent  foumir  un  volume ;"  and 
with  Voltaire,  that  these  passions  and  follies  are  "  Le  secrer 
de  toot  le  monde^'' 


THE  OXONIANIS. 


CHAPTER  I. 

aUITTING   COLLEGE. 


Who  wouldn't  send  a  son  to  college, 
To  gather  there  all  kinds  of  knowledge 
To  etufFhis  head  with  Greek  and  Latin, 
Till  the  classics  he  is  pat  in  ; 
To  hunt,  to  swear,  to  drink,  and  dine 
And  fit  him  for  a  grave  divine. — Anon 

•'One,  two,  three — hip,  hip,  hip — hurrah  !  hurrah  !  hui 
rah  !"  was  vociferated  by  some  six  or  seven  voices  in  tones 
which  indicated  very  little  sense  as  to  the  immediate  occasion 
of  their  hilarity,  or  much  knowledge  of  the  toast  which  had 
called  for  the  honour  of  the  libation  and  the  cheer  which  fol- 
lowed it.  Hurrah !  was  again  hiccupped,  once  or  twice,  like 
shots  fired  after  a  volley  by  muskets  which  had  hung  fire 
through  not  being  properly  primed  and  loaded. 

These  sounds  issued  from  an  apartment  in  one  of  the  minor 
inns  in  Oxford,  in  which  six  or  eight  Gentlemen  Commoners 
were  assembled  for  the  purpose  of  taking  leave  of  two  of  their 
companions  who  were  on  the  point  of  quitting  the  University. 

These  were  the  Honourable  Henry  Lascelles  and  Frank 
Hartley,  cousins  of  nearly  the  same  age  and  standing  ;  but  as 
different  in  character  as  light  from  darkness  :  the  first  de- 
lighting in  slang,  the  latter  in  sentiment ;  the  first  all  noise, 
bustle,  and  boisterous  gayety,  the  best  driver  of  a  tandem,  the 
boldest  rider,  and  the  most  expert  rower  in  Oxford  ;  the  latter 
pursuing  all  these  avocations  in  turn,  according  to  the  whim  ol 
the  moment  or  the  example  of  his  companions,  but  mingling 
them  with  reading; — mixing  up  all  the  few  realities  of  his 
gay  life  with  the  poetry  of  his  own  imagination,  and  giving 
that  dash  of  the  romantic,  which  is  the  general  accompani 


3  THE    0XOMA\5, 

ment  of  an  amiable  mind,  to  any  common  circumstance  that 
occurred.  The  above  words,  slang  and  sentiment,  however, 
sum  up  the  essential  of  their  difference  of  character. 

The  time  was  come  when  their  education  was  considered 
as  completed.  Hartley  had  taken  his  first  degrees.  Lascelles 
had  attempted  no  such  thing.  He  could  drive,  ride,  and  box  ; 
he  knew  the  anatomy  and  points  of  a  horse  ;  the  odds  on  the 
Darby,  and  was  already  initiated  into  making  a  prospective 
book  for  the  St.  Leger.  He  was  deep  in  the  science  of  pu- 
gilism ;  on  shake-hand  terms  with  its  professors  ;  he  could 
work  the  mail  ;  and  he  considered  himself  sufficiently  know- 
ing to  enter  the  world,  sit  for  his  hereditary  borough,  legislate 
for  the  country,  and  spend  his  own  income  !  and  having  now 
neither  parents  nor  guardians,  but  inheriting  his  fortune  from 
an  uncle,  being  completely  his  own  master,  he  determined  to 
try  the  experiment :  and  who  with  such  a  mind,  such  accom- 
plishments, and  seven  thousand  a-year,  would  not  have  done 
the  same  ?  To  celebrate  their  departure  he  had  persuaded 
Hartley  to  join  him  in  asking  some  fellow  collegians  to  sup  at 
the  inn  at  which  the  mail  stopped  as  it  passed  through  the 
town.  This  it  had  been  already  agreed  between  himself  and 
the  guard,  that  he  was  to"  work"  up  to  London  ;  and  Hartley 
had  consented  to  trust  his  neck  for  this  once  to  the  custody  of 
his  friend  and  cousin. 

"  Ncc  tenierd,  ncc  timide,"  as  Harry  Vaux,  one  of  the  party, 
said  ;  and  who,  not  being  very  rich,  was  reading  for  the  sake 
of  takincr  orders,  and  becoming  a  tutor  to  his  more  fortunate 
companions  ;  but  the  love  of  good  fellowship,  with  his  own 
good-humour  and  oddities,  making  him  a  desirable  acquisition 
to  some  of  the  bons  vivans  of  rank,  he  paid  more  attention  to 
the  bottle  than  to  his  book.  Feeling,  however,  the  necessity  of, 
at  least,  appearing  to  have  studied,  he  stored  his  mind  with  & 
number  of  Latin  and  Greek  phrases  to  impose  upon  his  friends 
during  the  vacation  :  and  he  had  got  so  completely  into  the 
habit  of  utterinir  them,  that,  whenever  he  was  a  little  "  in  the 
wind"  through  his  potations,  every  sound  that  bore  a  resem- 
blance to  any  one  of  the  words  of  the  numerous  sentences  of 
the  Classics  with  which  his  memory  was  crammed,  that  struck 
upon  his  ear,  was  sure  to  bring  out  a  quotation  from  Vaux, 
whojncver  considered  its  aptness  or  applicability.  These  quo- 
tations were  generally  uttered  without  moving  a  muscle,  and 
appeared  to  issue  from  his  lips  almost  without  his  own  knov/- 
ledge,  while  there  was  still  a  kind  of  consciousness  that  h^ 
was  displaying  his  learning. 


THE  OXONIANS.  if 

T^e  rest  were  the  general  run  of  young  collegians,  making 
Ihe  most  of  an  escapade  from  their  rooms  ;  and  laying  up  a 
three  days'  headache,  by  what  they  called  enjoyment,  in  drink- 
ing bad  wine,  which  the  worthy  host  had  dignified  with  some 
of  the  most  aristocratic  names  in  the  vinous  nomenclature. 

"  Here,  landlord  1"  called  out  Lascelles,  screwing  up  his 
face  ;  "  What  the  devil  wine  is  this  ?"  "  Burgundy,  sir,  Bur- 
gundy, I  assure  you."  "  Burgundy  !  why,  'tis  as  sour  as  war- 
juice,"  as  Liston  says  ;  Burgundy!  nonsense,  taste  it  ;"  and 
Boniface  was  compelled,  most  unwillingly,  to  swallow  a 
bumper  of  his  own  wine  ;  but  being  unable  to  conceal  the 
contortion  of  his  countenance,  as  the  sour  beverage  forced  its 
way  into  his  capacious  stomach,  warmed  as  it  was  with 
stronger  liquors,  he  acknowledged  that  though  it  was  Bur- 
gundy, true  Chambertin,  upon  his  honour  (the  honour  of  a  land- 
lord), the  voyage  across  the  sea  had  not  agreed  with  it ;  "  had 
made  it  sick." 

•'  Sic  transit,"  said  Vaux,  and  the  landlord  was  despatched 
for  another  bottle,  to  be  accompanied  by  a  correction  of  brandy, 
with  a  threat,  that  if  it  did  not  turn  out  better  he  should  be 
made  to  swallow  the  whole  of  it. 

"  Now,  my  boys,"  said  Lascelles,  "  push  the  bottle  about, 
and  charge  your  glasses.  Why,  Harry  Vane,  what's  the 
matter  ?     Why,  Vane,  you're  asleep,  my  boy. 

"  ^gri  somnia  Vana — Horace,"  mumbled  Vaux. 

"  Hold  your  Latin  tongue,  Vaux,  and  give  us  plain  English. 
I  never  wish  to  hear  a  word  of  Latin  or  Greek  again  as  long 
as  I  live.  Come,  Gentlemen,  we  have  drank  confusion  to  ou» 
tutors  ;  to  Homer,  Virgil,  Tacitus,  and  the  whole  host  of  old 
classic  bores  ;  so  now,  Dorville,  give  us  a  modern  toast." 

A  pale-faced  young  man,  already  emaciated  by  early  dis- 
sipation, beyond  his  years  and  strength,  immediately  said? 
"  Gen— rgen— tlemen,  I'll  give  you — Confusion, — confusion  to 
—the  Muses." 

"  Egad,  Dorville,"  exclaimed  one  of  the  party,  a  little  so= 
berer  than  the  rest,  "  I  think  you'd  give  confusion  to  any  thing 
just  now." 

This  sally,  weak  as  it  was,  occasioned  a  roar  ;  for  the  loaded 
claret  and  heavy  port,  sour  hock  and  deleterious  spirits,  with 
which  these  young  students  had  filled  their  brains,  made  them 
apt  to  laugh  at  any  thing. 

"  Here's  ditto  to  the  Graces,"  bawled  out  another. 

■  Oh !  d— n  dittos.    It  makes  one  think  of  one's  tradesmen's 


10  THE   OXONIANS. 

bills.     Ditto,  ditto,  ditto,  till  it  comes  to  a  confounded  sunr 
total  at  the  botom"  exclaimed,  the  president. 

"Ay!  no  di — t — tos,"  drawled  out  the  pale-faced  Dor- 
ville,  with  an  expression  of  countenance  that  seemed  to  indi- 
cate that  the  claret  he  had  swallowed  was  in  danger  of  fol- 
lowing the  (liw  words  he  had  uttered.  "  I — ha — ate  dittos, 
and  duns — and  tradesmen." 

"  Aye,  it  is  these  d — d  sum-totals  that  send  many  a  fine  fel- 
low to  quod,"  cried  out  one  who  looked  older  in  the  world  as 
well  as  in  years  than  the  rest. 

"  Sum  quod  eris,  fui  quod  es,"  said  Vaux. 

"  Here's  confusion  to  ail  rascally  tradesmen,"  roared  out 
another.  This  toast  was  j^reeted  with  immense  applause  : 
when  the  proposer  stood  up,  if  it  could  be  called  standing  up. 
to  support  himself  between  the  chfiir  and  the  table,  and  to  in- 
cline first  one  way  towards  the  company,  as  if  he  were  making 
them  a  profound  salaam,  and  the  other  way  towards  the  back 
of  the  chair,  as  thouch  he  were  tioins  to  fall  prostrate  on  the 
floor  :  at  lengtli,  after  two  or  tliree  vibrations,  he  succeeded  in 
steadying  himself,  and  the  party  immediately  become  ten  times 
noisier,  by  bawling  "silence,''  in  the  anticipation  of  a  speech. 

"  Silence  !  Neville  on  his  legs  ;  silence  !  go  it  Neville — no\^ 
for  it ;"  and  other  elegant  little  encourasements  were  uttereH  by 
the  whole  party  ;  at  len^ith,  after  various  gurglings  in  the 
throat,  and  one  or  two  stifled  hiccups,  Mr.  Neville  began. 

"  Gentlemen — I  believe  you  are  all  pretty  well " 

"  To  be  sure  we  are,  never  better,''  said  Dorville. 

"  Pretty  well  aware  of  the  occasion  on  which  we  are  as- 
sembled," continued  Neville,  "  tho'  upon  my  soul  we  have  till 
this  moment  forgotten  it.  It  is,  gentlemen,  to  take  leave  of 
our  worthy  friends  Lascelles  and  Hartley  ;  Lascelles  in  the 

chair,  and  Hartley "  here  he  looked  round,  "  why,  where 

the  devil's  Hartley  ?"  and  for  the  first  time  it  was  observed 
that  Hartley  bad  quitted  the  party.  "  Stole  away  !  stole  away !" 
was  hooted  in  a  huntsman-like  style  ;  "gone!  run  to  cover!" 
was  hiccupped  out  by  another.  "  The  milksop's  ofl',''  cried 
a  third.  "  Hartley's  a  safe  one,"  said  a  fourth.  "  Cavendo 
tutus,"  hiccupped  Vaux.  "Goon,  Neville  ;  never  mind  Hart 
ley,"  roared  a  fifth  ;  "  his  liunks  of  a  tutor  has  put  a  veto  upon 
his  staying."  / 

"  Hunc  tu,  Romane,  cavcto — Horace,"  said  Vaux. 

"  What  a  quiz  !"  called  out  Dorville. 

"  Egregio,  quis,  qais,  and  vir  bonus  est  qui*,''  reiterated 
V^aux. 


THE   OXONIAKS.  1  1 

<<  Go  OD,  Neville.'" 

*'  Well,  gentlemen,  as  I  said  before,"  proceeded  Neville, 
*'  you  know — you  know — you  know" — and  he  seemed  quite  to 
have  lost  the  thread  of  his  speech,  if  he  ever  had  one,  and  to 
be  quite  content  with  his  companions  knowing,  without  having 
any  knowledge  himself;  "  you  know,"  said  he  for  the  fourth 
time 

"  Ab  uno  disce  omnes,  as  Virgil  says,"  muttered  Vaux. 

"  Curse  your  Latin,  I  say  ;  you  know,  my  boys,  that  in 
losing  Lascelles  we  are  losing  the  ornament  of  our  College. 
Who  can  drive  the  mail  like  Lascelles  ?" 

"  Male  notus  eques,"  said  Vaux. 

"  And  then  for  boxing,  Belcher  himself  had  not  a  quicker 
hit,  and  Mendoza  never  had  a  nicer  eye." 

"  Nisi  mendosum — Horace." 

"  Confound  your  quotations  ;  if  you  will  stop  one's  mouth 
with  Horace  and  Virgil,  why  I  may  as  well  be  dumb  on  Las- 
celles' qualifications." 

"  Dum  tacent,  clamant — Cicero,"  muttered  out  the  incor- 
rigible Vaux. 

"  Here's  Lascelles  with  three  times  three,"  roared  out  Dor- 
ville.  "  Nothing  but  a  bumper  will  stop  Vaux's  mouth." 
xVnd  "  hip,  hip,  hip,  hurrah  I"  went  round,  to  the  utter  demo- 
lition of  Neville's  speech,  and  to  the  temporary  derangement 
of  Vaux's  quotations. 

Lascelles  returned  thanks  as  well  as  he  could,  enumerating, 
as  virtues,  accomplishments  which  trod  very  closely  upon  the 
heels  of  vices,  and  boldly  disclainiing  pretensions  to  any  thing 
like  learning.  Leaving  Lntin  and  Greek,  as  he  said,  to  the 
quizzes  who  liked  them,  and  who  not  understanding  life  might 
be  contented  with  dead  languages,  he  promised  he  would  very 
soon  show  how  he  understood  it,  by  spending  an  unencum- 
bered estate  of  seven  thousand  a-year,  like  a  fighting  cock, 
and  agentleman  ;  by  voting  for  the  Game  Laws,  and  by  giving 
Vaux  a  living.  This  speech  was  received  of  course  with 
hurrahs. 

"  A  song,  a  song  !"  was  now  called  for,  and  one  of  the 
party  attempted  to  sing,  or  rather  to  roar  out  some  Baccha- 
nalian ditty,  till  he  was  interrupted  by  Dorville's  putting  his  fin- 
ders in  his  ears,  and  requesting  that  he  would  stop  that  "  be^ 
'owing." 
"  Bellowing  !"  cried  the  singer. 
•'  Flagrante  bello — Virgil,^'  murmured  Vaux. 


IS  XH£  OXOKIANS. 

At  this  moment  the  horn  was  heard  sounding  faintly  in  tbe 
distance. 

"  HarkT'  exclaimed  all ;  "  The  mail !  hark !"  and  all  lent 
a  listening  ear. 

*'  Arcum  intenssiu  frangit,"  cried  Vaui. 
"  Give  me  my  toggray,"  said  Lascelles ;  "  curse  my  lacquey. 
I  suspect  he  has  played  me  some  trick." 
*'  Suspector  laqueos — Horace." 
"  This  is  no  more  my  last  Nugee. 
"  Nug(B(\ue  canorae,"  muttered  Vaux. 
"  Oh  here  it  is  !  now,  my  boys,  good-bye  1"  exclaimed  Las 
cBlles,  as  he  buttoned  one  coat  over  the  other,  till  he  had  all 
the  appearance  of  what  he  called  "  a  Swell  Dragsman."     The 
cry  of  "  gentlemen  for  the  mail,"  was  answered  by  an  elderly 
looking  man  running  into  the  room,  still  half  undressed  and 
half  asleep,  with   his  night-cap   on   his   head,  having   been 
tempted  into  three  shillings'  worth  of  bed  for  the  first  half  of 
the  night. 

He  was  followed  by  a  pert  looking  girl,  with,  *'  Chamber- 
maid, if  you  please,  sir  ;  remember  the  bed." 

"  Remember  it,"  growled  out  the  traveller  ;  "  I  shall  never 
forget  it ;  why  I'm  flea-bitten  from  top  to  toe." 

"  Flebit   et  insignis  tot  acantabitur   urbe — Horace,"  said 
Vaux. 

The  guard  now  came  in,  and  made  his  bow  to  Lascelles^ 
who  hailed  the  landlord  for  a  glass  of  his  best  brandy. 

The  landlord  brought  in  the  bottle,  gave  a  large  glass  to  the 
guard,  and  pouring  out  the  amber-coloured  liquor,  accompa- 
nied the  potation  with,  '*  There  it  is  ;  mark,  Joey,  right  Nantz, 
[  assure  you  ;  right  Nantz,  neat  as  imported,  and  a  rare  glass 
of  it." 
"  Rari  nantes  in  gurgitevasto — Virgil,"  hiccupped  Vaux. 
"  Give  me  my  toast  and  lea,"  bawled  the  fleabitten  travel- 
ler. 
"  Here  it  is,  sir,"  said  the  waiter. 

"Zounds,"  exclaimed  the  angry  passenger,  holding  up  a  bit 
of  toast  from  which  the  grease  was  literally  pouring  ;  "  do 
you  think  I  can  eat  all  the  fat  of  an  Oxford  sausage  on  my 
toast?" 
"  Mors  soldi  fatetur — Virgil,"  rejoined  Vaux. 
"Too-wool  too-woo!  too-woo !"  went  the  horn.  '•  Lon- 
don  mail !"  cried  the  waiters.  Away  bundled  the  passengers 
with  coats  half  on,  toast  half  ewallowed,  and  throats  quite 
scalded. 


THE  OXONIANS.  IS 

"Good-bye!  good-bye!"  was  echoed  and  re-echoed  by  the 
tJollegians,  as  they  followed  Lascelles  to  the  street,  where  he 
mounted  the  box  in  the  true  knowing  style  ;  and  handling  the 
ribands  with  the  dexterity  of  a  professor,  might  really  flatter 
himself  with  being  taken  for  the  real  coachman. 

"  Hollo  !  Lascelles,"  called  out  Dorville  ;  "  why  you've 
forgotten  your  cigar;  who'd  sit  on  a  coach  box  without  a 
cigar  ?" 

"  Quid  sit  pulchrum,"  bawled  Vaux,  lighting  and  handing 
Lascelles  a  cigar. 

.    "Sit   fast,"  cried  Lascelles,"  I  wont  forget  the  living.'' 
Crack  went  the  whip,  and  off  went  the  mail. 


CHAPTER  IL 

FIRST    LOVE. 

Ah  1  qu'un  premier  amour  a  d'empire  sur  nous  I — Gresset, 

In  the  midst  of  their  bustle  and  wine.  Hartley  had  been  en 
Urely  forgotten  by  his  companions.  From  the  commencement 
of  their  festivity  he  had  been  but  a  silent  participator  in  their 
drinking  and  their  gayety  ;  and  when  the  deep-toned  bell  of  St. 
Mary's  chimed  the  hour  of  eleven,  he  had  silently  "  stolen 
away,"  as  the  fox-hunting  collegian  had  truly  said,  and  wend- 
ing his  way  down  the  High-street,  turned  off  to  the  right,  and 
was  soon  out  of  hearing  of  his  boisterous  companions. 

He  pursued  his  course  till  the  cross  street  he  had  entered 
finished  in  a  few  straggling  houses,  nor  stopped  till  he  had 
reached  a  small  picket  gate,  which  formed  the  entrance  to  a 
neat  though  humble  mansion  in  the  suburbs.  He  cast  his 
eyes  anxiously  towards  a  window  that  looked  into  the  front 
court,  and  in  which  the  undisturbed  and  steady  burning  light? 
gleaming  through  the  dimity  curtains,  plainly  spoke  that  the 
inmate  had  retired  to  rest. 

This  was  the  signal.  All  then  was  safe,  and  he  took  a 
circuitous  route  to  arrive  at  the  back  of  the  house,  whei'e, 
climbinaf  over  the  decayed  wall,  he  found  himself  in  one  of 
those  gardens  with  which  our  ancestors  some  centuries  since 
always  decorated  their  houses  in  towns  and  their  environs,  and 
Vol.  L— 2 


14e  THE  OXONIANS. 

silently  stole  up  a  green  walk  towards  a   summer-house  iu 
which  he  had  spent  many  happy  hours. 

The  moon  shone  so  brii^htly  as  to  make  him  keep  within  the 
shadow  of  the  trees,  lest  its  light  might  betray  him  to  the  pry- 
ing eye  of  some  of  the  neighbours,  whose  windows  overlook- 
ed the  garden. 

His  foot- fall  was  so  silent  on  the  greensward,  that  nothing 
but  the  e  ir  of  anxious  expectation  could  have  distinguished 
it.  But  that  ear  was  alive  to  the  slightest  noise,  and  had  he 
come  with  the  lightness  and  silence  of  a  lly,  Caroline  Dormer 
would  have  distinguished  his  footstep  ;  her  heart  would  have 
felt  his  approach. 

Who  is  there  that  has  ever  waited  for  a  beloved  object — all 
anxiety — all  expectation — that  has  not  felt  the  increased 
acuteness  of  the  sense  of  hearing  ;  that  has  not  experienced 
the  painful  sensation  of  misinterpreting  every  noise  into  the 
wished-for  footstep,  and  the  heart-sickening  disappointment  a= 
the  sound  died  away  upon  the  ear,  or  as  the  proof  of  being 
mistaken  has  been  unwillingly  admitted. 

In  this  state  of  suspense  stood  Caroline  Dormer.  Too  anx- 
ious to  sit  patiently,  she  half  leaned  on  a  rustic  seat  in  the 
front  of  the  old-fashioned  summer-house,  with  her  head  bent 
forward  in  the  act  of  listening,  and  trembling  at  every  falling 
leaf,  startir)g  at  every  breeze  thit  waved  the  boughs,  and  at 
every  bird  that  winged  its  way  near  her,  scarcely  daring  to 
breathe  lest  her  respiration  should  prevent  her  hearing  the  very 
first  symptom  of  his  approach.  Many  times  had  she  already 
been  disappointed  ;  for,  although  Hartley  was  not  five  mi- 
nutes after  his  time,  Caroline  seemed  to  have  felt  with  Shak- 
speare,  that  "^  He  that  will  divide  a  minute  into  a  thousand 
parts,  and  break  but  a  part  of  the  thousandth  part  of  a  mi- 
nute in  the  affairs  of  love,  it  may  be  said  of  him,  that  Cupid 
hath  clapp'd  him  o'  the  shoulder,  but  1  warrant  him  heart- 
whole." 

She  now,  however,  palpably  heard  the  noise  he  made  iu 
descending  from  the  wall  ;  cautiously  as  he  trod,  her  anxious 
ear  yet  caught  the  sound  of  his  footsteps  on  the  grass,  and  her 
heart  beat  more  tranquilly  ;  and  who  has  not  felt  that  delight- 
ful tranquillity  of  soul,  which  the  certainty  of  the  coming  of  a 
beloved  object  inspires  ?  Another  instarit,  and  they  were  to- 
gether, gazing  on  each  other  by  the  liuht  of  the  moon,  their 
bands  clasped,  both  feeling  the  pleasure  of  the  meeting,  yet 
both  also  feeling  that  they  were  about  to  part — meeting  only 
to  bid  farewell,  and  that,  fer  the  lirst  time  since  Frank  Hartley 


THE  OXONIANS.  15 

had  told  Caroline  Dormer  he  loved  her,  and  since  she  had  felt 
how  much  she  loved  him. 

Caroline  s  father  was  a  curate  of  one  of  the  churches  in  the 
neighbourhood  of  Oxford,  and  having  been  under  great  obliga- 
tions to  Hartley's  father  in  early  life,  he  had  been  engaged  by 
him  to  superintend  the  reading  of  his  son  during  his  stay  al 
college.     But  as  Hartley  was  only  studious  by  fits  and  starts, 
his  attendance  in  the  good  curate's  study  was  rather  irrregular. 
Very  much  under  the  influence  of  his  companions  of  the  mo- 
ment, Hartley  was  by  turns  a  lounger  on  the  pave  of^^the  High- 
street,  an  ardent  follower  of  the  harriers  on  some  wretched 
hackney,  or  with    some  book-worm  friend    an    industrious 
student  of  the  classics.     With  such  a  malleable  character  it 
is  not  to  be  wondered  at  that  Mr.  Dormer  found  him  but  an 
inattentive  scholar.     Latterly,  however,  he  had  been  very  con- 
stant in  his  application.     Every  leisure  moment  was  spent  at 
the  curate's  ;  his  love  for  classic  lore  seemed  suddenly  to  have 
prodigiously  increased  ;  and  he  now  frequently  took  his  tea 
and  spent  whole  evenings  with  the  worthy  curate,  to  the  old 
gentleman's  great  delight ;  nor  did  he,  in  the  simplicity  of  his 
mind,  observe  that  all  this  had  occurred  only  since  the  arrival 
of  his  lovely  daughter ;  or  that   he  had   invariably  declined 
taking  tea  until  he  found  it  made  by  her,  and  the  bread  and 
butter  handed  by  the  soft  white  hand  of  Caroline.     The  good 
old  man  rejoiced  in  the  improvement  and  industryof  his  pupil, 
which  he  attributed  entirely  to  his  own  influence,  and  to  the 
love  which  he  was  gradually  imbibing  for  the  classics,  and  he 
wrote  to  his  friend,  Hartley's  father,  accordingly. 

In  the  mean  time  Hartley  was  trying  to  read  some  sentiment 
corresponding  with  his  own  in  Caroline's  eyes,  while  the  old 
gentleman  construed  Homer  ;  and  had  much  more  inclination 
to  explain  some  of  the  mysteries  of  Ovid  to  his  daughter,  than 
to  attend  to  his  explanations  of  some  of  the  dry  passages  of 
Xenophon  or  Thucydides. 

The  young  people,  however,  soon  understood  each  other 
much  better  than  the  good  old  curate  understood  his  pupil. 
The  living  language  of  the  eyes,  the  language  universally  un- 
derstood, of  the  heart,  soon  superseded  all  the  dead  lan- 
guages to  which  he  attempted  to  direct  the  attention  of  the 
student,  and  there  wanted  but  the  opportunity  to  bring  about 
an  iclaircissement. 

The  old  gentleman's  propensity  to  napping  over  his  pipe 
after  tea  soon  afforded  this  opportunity.  A  glance  of  the  eye, 
a  touch  of  the  hand,  a  few  sentences  murmured  in  an  under 


JG  THE    OXONIANS. 

tone,  expressed  Hartley's  sensations  ;  while  a  lilush,  a  aigh,  a 
downcast  look,  and  a  trernour  that  thrilled  and  vibrated  through 
her  whole  frame,  proved  that  he  had  found  a  heart  which  sym 
pathized  with  his  own,  in  the  bosom  of  Caroline.  Had  Hart- 
ley been  aware  of  the  mischief  lie  was  doing,  of  the  miser} 
he  was  laying  up  for  the  poor  girl,  and  could  he  have  taken  a 
complete  view  oi  the  bearings  of  the  whole  case,  of  tiie  ine- 
quality of  their  condition,  of  the  impossibility  of  any  happy 
and  honourable  conclusion  to  their  loves,  without  the  great  dis- 
pleasure of  his  parents,  he  would  have  paused  ;  and  the  innate 
goodness  of  his  heart  would  have  taught  him  to  deiiV  himself 
the  indulgence  of  feelings,  which,  however  delightful  at  the 
moment,  could  present  no  prospect  but  that  of  unhappiness. 

Thoughtless,  however,  of  the  future,  the  present  w  as  all  that 
struck  his  imagination.  He  saw  before  h:ni  a  beautiful  girl, 
in  the  first  brilliancy  of  youth,  with  black  eyes,  raven  tresses. 
and  a  complexion  in  which  hei  eloquent  blood  sfioke  the  leel- 
ings  of  her  heart.  He  saw  a  finely  rounded  form,  a  heaving 
bosom,  and  a  trembling  hand  ;  and  he  knew  that  ihe  bosom 
heaved,  the  heart  beat,  and  the  hand  trembled  for  him.  It  was 
not  in  human  nature  to  resist  this,  at  least  in  the  human  nature 
of  twenty-two.  It  requires  time,  and  experience,  and  disap- 
pointment, and  the  sight  and  feeling  of  misery,  to  lower  the 
blood,  and  to  quell  the  passions,  and  to  give  reflection  fair 
play,  and  when  bus  this  ever  happened  at  twenty-two  '?  How 
seldom  at  double  that  age  I  So  Hartley  went  on  and  on,  in- 
dulging his  feelings,  without  permitting  judgment  or  reason  to 
give  them  the  '■'qui  va  la'''  that  might  have  stopped  them 
in  their  progress. 

In  the  first  instance,  Caroline,  young  as  she  was,  had  some 
thoughts  of  the  difference  of  their  lank,  and  of  the  inequality 
of  their  circumstances  ;  and  in  the  absence  of  her  lover  these 
thoughts  would  come  on  her  with  a  sickening  sensation  that 
made  her  heart  sink  within  her  ;  and  she  determined  to  act  dif- 
ferently, and  not  to  be  present  at  Hartley's  visits.  But  he 
came,  and  she  was  still  there  ;  and  as  he  never  seemed  to  feel 
this  difference,  and  as  her  own  affection  increased,  she  too  forgot 
it,  and  gave  herself  up  to  all  the  dear  delirium  of  a  first  love  ; 
a  love  as  pure  as  could  glow  in  the  bosom  of  a  virtuous  girl  of 
eighteen  without  any  knowledge  of  the  world,  and  as  ardent 
as  could  be  felt  by  a  person  who  thought  its  object  perfection, 
and  who  had  certainly  never  seen  any  thing  superior  to  him 
for  whom  those  feelings  were  excited. 
Thus  wrapped  up  in  each  other,  nelthor  of  them  had  ye* 


THE   OXONIAKS,  17 

iooked  beyond  the  present  moment.  Wliat  tliey  were  to  do 
iiad  never  entered  the  thoughts  of  either  of  them.  If  the 
future  would  intrude  on  the  mind  of  Hartley,  he  banished  the 
thought  it  suggested,  as  an  unwelcome  guest,  by  the  enjoy- 
ment of  the  moment,  an  enjoyment  as  pure  and  innocent  as  that 
of  Caroline  herself;  for  no  sentiment  that  could  stain  the 
purity  of  her  honour  had  ever  entered  his  imagination.  All 
they  seemed  determined  to  do  was  to  love  (that  was  enough 
for  the  present),  and  to  leave  the  rest  to  time  and  circum- 
stances. 

Thus  months  rolled  on  ;  Caroline's  heart  became  more  and 
more  absorbed  in  her  feelings,  and  Hartley  was  as  much  de- 
voted as  ever,  till  the  commands  of  his  father  that  he  should 
quit  College,  and  pass  a  winter  in  London,  and  then  travel  pre- 
paratory to  his  entering  on  the  course  of  public  life  for  which 
he  was  intended,  as  the  representative  of  an  ancient  and  re- 
spectable house,  and  as  one  who  might  some  day  inherit  the 
title  to  which  his  father  was  presumptive  heir,  and  which  was 
now  borne  by  a  widowed  Lord  who  had  resided  abroad 
for  many  years. 

This  letter  awoke  them  both  from  their  dream  of  bliss.  In 
Caroline's  agony  Hartley  began  to  perceive  some  of  the  mis- 
chief of  which  he  had  inadvertently  been  guilty,  and  in  his 
own  anticipation  of  parting  he  also  felt  the  future  pangs  he 
iiad  laid  up  for  his  own  heart.  He  now  took  his  conduct  se- 
verely to  task,  and  questioned  himself  as  to  his  intentions  ; 
but  when  he  came  to  analyse  his  own  mind  he  found  that  he 
had  formed  none.  If  there  was  no  definite  determination  to 
make  Caroline  his  wife,  there  was  certainly  not  even  the  re- 
motest thought  of  making  her  his  mistress  ;  and  when,  as  he 
saw  the  difficulty  of  an  honourable  conclusion  to  his  attach- 
ment in  the  elaborately  detailed  claim  of  his  rank  and  family, 
set  forth  in  his  father's  letter,  this  thought  did  pass  across  his 
.mind  like  a  cloud  upon  the  purity  of  his  passion  ;  it  was  ba- 
ished  with  horror,  as  his  imagination  pictured  the  gray  hairs 
of  the  good  old  curate  descending  to  the  grave  with  sorrovjr 
and  disgrace,  and  the  now  cheerful  face  of  Caroline  shrinking 
from  the  scornful  finger  of  a  pitiless  world,  as  one  of  the 
cast-out  of  her  sex. 

Whether  as  wife  or  mistress,  therefore,  equal  difficulties 
seemed  to  present  themselves,  and  he  still  determined  to 
go  on  as  he  had  done,  and  leave  things  to  time  and  circum- 
stances, as  heretofore. 

He  therefore  encouraged  Caroline  with  renewed  assurances 


\8  THE    OXONIABS. 

of  his  love,  and  with  promises  of  unchangeable  fidelity ;  anu 
she  buoyed  herself  up  with  the  hope  that,  beinjj:  the  daughter 
of  a  gentleman,  time  would  induce  the  consent  of  his  parents- 
to  their  union  ;  many  more  unlikely  thinirs  had  happened,  many 
more  unequal  matches  were  taking  place  every  day,  and  why 
should  not  this  be  the  case  in  her  instance  as  well  as  in  that  ol 
others. 

These  ideas  and  hopes  tranquillized  her  mind,  and  she 
thought  of  nothing  but  her  love,  and  the  pain  of  parting  from 
her  lover. 

This  was  the  first  assignation  they  had  ever  made.  The 
many  opportunities  which  the  habits  of  the  good  curate 
afforded  them  in  his  study,  in  the  garden,  and  in  the  walks,  had 
precluded  the  painful  necessity  of  making  absolute  appoint- 
ments, and  the  delicacy  of  Caroline's  mind  would  instinctively 
have  shrunk  from  such  an  idea.  None  of  the  usual  opportu- 
nities, however,  were  sutFicient  for  either  of  them  at  a  parting 
like  this.  The  pressure  of  the  hand,  warm  as  it  was, 
the  glance,  all  speaking  of  the  feelings  within,  were  nothing 
when  given  and  exchanged  in  the  presence  of  a  third  person. 
Both  their  hearts  lonoed  for  something  more,  and  it  was 
agreed  that  Caroline  should  be  in  the  summer-house  at 
eleven,  by  which  time  her  father  and  their  old  housekeeper 
were  generally  asleep. 

Those  who  have  felt  the  pangs  of  separating  from  a  beloved 
object,  and  know  how  much  those  pangs  are  assuaged  by  u 
free  interchange  of  affectionate  assurances  ;  and  those  also 
who  know  the  comfort  which  is  derived  during  absence  from 
the  recollection  of  such  an  intfrview,  will  readily  find  an 
apology  for  Caroline  ;  and  let  those  who  are  more  rigid  recol- 
lect that  she  was  only  eighteen,  in  love  for  the  first  time,  not 
as  young  ladies  love  generally,  but  with  her  whole  soul  ;  that 
she  was  going  to  part  from  the  object  of  this  love,  and,  above 
■all,  that  she  had  the  most  implicit  confidence  in  her  lover. 
Nor  was  her  confidence  misplaced  ;  for,  in  asking  this  inter- 
view. Hartley's  mind  was  as  free  from  guile  as  her  own  in 
granting  it. 

When  they  met  she  was  pale  and  trembling,  an  innate  sense 
of  doing  sometiiing  that  was  not  quite  right  mingled  with 
the  pain  of  separation  ;  this  one  idea,  however,  soon  absorbed 
every  other,  and  her  tears  flowed  fast  as  she  recollected  how 
long  it  might  be  ere  they  met  again.  Overcome  by  her  sor- 
row, all  caution  on  the  part  of  Hartley  gave  way,  and  hf 


TUE   OXONIANS.  19 

poured  forth  his  tale  of  tenderness  in  her  ear,  accompanied  by 
such  protestations  of  fidelity,  and  with  30  many  insinuations 
that  the  indulgent  love  of  his  parents  would  overlook  every 
obstacle  to  their  union  when  they  found  how  much  his  happi- 
ness depended  upon  it,  that  the  poor  believing  girl  was  com- 
forted, smiled  through  her  tears  at  the  prospects  which  his  san- 
guine anticipations  pictured,  and  mingled  her  vows  with  his 
own. 

Who  in  the  midst  of  such  an  interview  has  ever  counted 
minutes  ?  What  lover  ever  thinks  of  the  lapse  of  time.  It 
was  thus  with  Caroline  and  Hartley  ;  they  talked  on  and  on, 
repeated  the  same  thing  over  and  over  again  without  tiring  of 
the  eternal  theme,  till  the  first  streaks  of  the  morning  surprised 
them.  The  lovers  would  scarcely  believe  their  eyes  as  the 
dawning  light  stole  through  the  leaves  which  clustered,  even 
at  this  early  period  of  the  year,  over  tiie  windows  of  the  sum- 
mer-house, and  were  tempted  to  exclaim  with  Juliet : 

"  Yon  light  is  not  the  day  light,  I  know  it,  I 
It  is  some  meteor  tliat  the  sun  exhales, 
To  be  to  thee  this  night  a  torch-bearer. 
Therefore  stay  yet,  thou  need'st  not  to  be  gone.'' 

A  hurried  repetition  of  the  method  of  their  correspondence, 
a  kiss  half  snatched  half  granted,  a  warm  pressui'e  of  the 
hand,  and  Hartley  leaped  over  the  wall,  while  Caroline  stole 
silently  and  sorrowfully  to  her  apartment. 

Why  are  such  feelings  as  these  so  seldom,  so  very  seldom, 
consistent  with  duty  ?  or  why  is  not  man  born  with  those  me- 
chanical powers  for  their  regulation,  which  creates  the  per- 
fection and  the  utility  of  works  of  mere  human  ingenuity ! 


:fO  rnE  OXONIANS, 


CHAPTER  in 

liUITTING    HOME. 
Home,  sweet  home  1 — ballad. 

It  was  on  a  beautiliil  morning  in  the  sprinc  ol  tiie  sajiir 
year,  that  Emily  Hartley  awoke  from  a  thousand  of  those  dc 
licious  dreams  which  render  the  state  of  the  innocent  even  more 
delightful  than  its  calm  repose.  Her  wandering  imagination 
had  imbodied  all  her  waking  thoughts ;  had  gone  back  to  the 
past,  and  combined  the  present  with  tlie  future  :  picturing  all 
the  delightful  anticipations  which  the  young,  innocent,  and 
inexperienced  indulge  in  the  views  they  take  of  life,  wliether 
in  their  waking  fancies  or  their  sleeping  dreams. 

As  her  eyes  gradually  opened  upon  the  bright  and  cheerful 
gleam  which  the  sun  shot  into  her  apartment,  she  collected 
her  scattered  thoughts,  recovered  from  the  delicious  illusion  of 
her  "  golden  dreams,"  and  recollected  that  it  was  the  morning 
on  which  she  was  to  set  off  on  her  first  visit  to  London.  Tiiis 
was  a  circumstance  that  led  to  a  thousand  brilliant  anticipa- 
tions of  gayety  and  splendour  :  of  crowded  drawing-rooms  and 
fascinating  assemblies  ;  of  gay  society,  and  of  all  those  varie- 
ties in  pleasure  with  which  the  fashionable  part  of  mankind 
contrive  to  kill  that  time,  which,  during  the  progress  of  their 
lives  they  find  too  long,  and,  at  its  close,  too  short  for  them. 
The  anticipation  of  this  journfy  had  given  its  colouring  to  her 
dreams ;  and  highly  indeed  had  they  been  tinted  by  her  sleep- 
ing fancies.  As  she  turned  round,  however,  in  her  bed,  and 
beheld  all  the  objects  in  her  beautiful  little  apartment :  the 
white  muslin  window  curtains,  lined  with  rose-coloured  Persian  : 
the  painted  blinds  ;  the  flowers  cultivated  by  her  own  hand,  and 
the  pictures,  the  produce  of  her  own  talent  and  industry,  and 
most  of  them  portraits  of  those  scenes  in  ilie  neighbourhood 
in  which  she  had  known  the  first  enjoyments  of  her  existence, 
and,  unhappily  for  human  nature,  tlie  first  are  generally  the 
sweetest,  a  tender  melancholy  stole  over  her  mind  at  the  idea 
of  quitting  them. 


THIS   0X0NIA2!S.  2i 

Then  came  the  thought  of  parting  from  her  parents  ;  from 
the  father,  whose  lips  had  first  taught  her  lessons  of  youthful 
wisdom  ;  from  the  mother,  whose  tenderness  had  reared  her 
in  health  and  innocence,  and  from  whose  care  she  had  never 
yet  been  absent  even  for  a  day  ;  and  then  the  old  servants  oi 
the  mansion  house,  most  of  whom  had  been  there  at  the  period 
of  her  l)irth,  and  had  reckoned  it  a  treat  to  be  allowed  by 
"  nurse"  to  dandle  Miss  Emily  in  their  arms,  and  present  her 
with  fruit  and  flowers. 

Oppressed  for  a  moment  by  these  thoughts,  and  by  one  other, 
of  which  she  was  either  unconscious  or  was  ashamed  to  own 
it  to  herself,  namely,  the  separiition  from  one,  whom  of  late 
she  had  been  wont  to  look  upon  and  feel  for,  with  a  tenderness 
surpassing  that  of  friendship,  she  started  from  the  bed,  and 
throwing  her  dressing  wrapper  over  her  beautiful  shoulders, 
and  thrusting  her  lillipiitian  feet  into  her  fur-lined  silk  slippers, 
she  passed  into  her  bi^udoir.  Here  was  her  private  practising 
piano  and  her  guitar,  neither  of  them  objects  likely  to  divert  her 
mind  from  the  scenes  and  circumstances  she  was  quitting 
She  threw  up  the  sash,  and  the  mild  spring  air  thai  rushed  into 
the  apartment  revived  her  drooping  spirits. 

It  was  one  of  those  mornings  which  at  this  time  of  the  year 
come  as  harbingers  of  summer.  S«>  mild  that  the  flowers 
opnn  their  closed  buds  to  its  influence,  and  summer  insects 
quit  their  winter  embryo,  only  to  find  in  the  *^vening  a  blast 
which  withers  them  for  thus  havnig  been  prematurely  tempted 
into  existence.  The  trees  and  shrubs  displaved  the  beautiful 
briaht  green  which  is  the  characteristic  of  that  early  season 
of  (he  year,  which  belongs  to  the  poets  from  its  freshness  and 
youth,  but  from  which  the  painter  derives  so  little  assistance. 
Her  boudoir  opened  into  a  vrrandah  overlooking  her  flower- 
garden.  The  earliest  flowers  were  in  blossom  ;  and  on  every 
blade  of  grass,  there  hung  bright  drops  of  dew  that  sparkled 
like  diamonds  in  the  morning  sun-beam.  There  was  a  cheer- 
fulness of  look,  a  healthiness  of  feeling,  which  imparted  its 
influence  to  all  around  ;  and  the  birds  sang  lustily  as  they  shook 
the  morning  dew  from  the  different  branches  which  they  had 
chosen  for  their  perch.  Every  thing  without  spoke  of  youth, 
health,  and  beauty  ;  and  as  Emily  put  aside  the  jessamine  that 
hung  over  the  window  of  the  boudoir,  and  gazed  upon  the 
morning,  she  looked,  with  her  own  youth,  health,  and  loveli- 
ness, her  bright  blue  eye  and  clear  complexion,  the  fit  inhabit- 
ant of  the  scene  before  her. 
The  birds  themselves  seemed  to  welcome  her  with  a  louder 


22  THE   OXONIANS. 

chorus,  for  there  was  not  one  of  them  that  had  not  been  hei 
pensioner  during  the  winter  ;  and  the  opening  of  her  window 
had  been  the  signal  of  her  morning's  beneficence. 

Her  eye  first  rested  on  the  flowers  she  had  planted,  and 
which  were  now  opening  in  their  budding  beauty  to  reward 
the  pains  she  had  bestowed  upon  them.  This  garden,  con- 
nected with  her  own  apartment,  had  been  her  sanctum  sancto- 
rum, her  refuge  from  disagreeable  and  annoying  visiters,  the 
scene  of  her  early  studies,  the  place  where  she  had  first  under- 
stood and  enjoyed  that  poetry  which  had  been  hitherto  the 
delight  of  her  existence,  and  from  which  she  had  at  present 
derived  her  only  ideas  of  life.  Over  the  little  sweet-brier 
hedge  which  divided  this  garden  from  the  other  part  of  the 
don.ain  were  seen  the  towering  oaks  and  elms,  the  rich  chest- 
nuts, and  vigorous  sycamores  of  the  park.  Trees  which  had 
been  on  the  estate  for  ages,  and  many  of  which  were  coeval 
with  the  first  Hartley  who  had  won  an  estate  with  his  name. 
Through  these  in  the  blue  distance  were  seen  the  Wye  rolling 
its  eddying  wateis  in  a  serpentine  line  along  the  country  ;  and 
beyond  it,  the  distant  mountains  of  VVales,  in  this  early  part  of 
the  morning,  mingling  with,  and  scarcely  discernible  from, 
the  horizon. 

Emily  gazed  upon  the  scene  with  delight.  She  felt  the  in- 
spiration it  was  calculated  to  impart.  Her  heart  literally 
thrillfid  with  the  beauty  she  contemplated  ;  she  could  have 
sung  her  joyfulness  with  the  birds,  and  she  forgot  for  a  moment 
that  she  was  about  to  quit  these  beauties,  in  the  contemplation 
of  which  she  had  derived  so  much  pleasure. 

Suddenly  her  attention  was  attracted  by  the  unusual  move- 
iTipnt  of  a  thick  cluster  of  shrubs,  and  she  perceived  for  the 
first  time  that  she  was  not  nlone  in  the  contemplation  of  the 
scene  before  her.  Half  hidden  by  a  large  laurestinus  stood 
Edward  Forrester,  whose  in'age  had  mingled  with  her  nightly 
dreams,  and  who  had  not  been  quite  absent  from  her  morning 
thoughts  and  regrets.  The  other  beauties  of  the  scene  ap- 
peared to  have  no  attraction  for  him  ;  his  eyes  were  riveted 
upon  her  with  an  earr)e?t  gaze,  which  softened  into  a  melan- 
choly smile  as  he  perceived  himself  discovered.  To  kiss  her 
hand  with  an  aflectionate  nod,  vhich  bade  him  not  begone, 
and  to  retreat  from  the  window  in  confusion  as  she  recollected 
her  dishabille,  was  the  operation  of  a  moment  :  but  ten  minutes 
more  saw  her  at  the  side  of  one  who  had  been  the  earliest 
companion  of  her  youth,  out  of  her  own  family  ;  and  of  the 
first  person  who  had  ever  breathed  in  her  ear  the  feelings 


THE  OXOIflANS.  63 

created  by  sympathies  warmer  than  those  of  friendship.  They 
shook  hands  in  silence  ;  both  knew  they  were  going  to  part, 
and  neither  of  them  knew  how  to  alleviate  the  pain  which 
their  separation  created. 

Emily  spoke  first,  for  she  felt  the  least ;  with  her  it  was 
friendship  ripening  to  a  warmer  feeling  from  the  continued 
observation  of  an  admirable  and  manly  character  entirely  and 
exclusively  devoted  to  herself;  with  him  it  was  an  ardent 
passion  which  formed  the  very  principle  of  his  existence. 
There  was  no  anticipation  of  his  future  life  in  which  her  form 
was  not  interwoven  as  the  prmcipal  object ;  no  dread,  no  hope, 
no  look  for  happiness,  no  fear  of  misery,  that  was  unconnected 
with  her ;  and  yet  he  was  not  blinded  to  the  risk  he  ran  in 
thus  confiding  his  happiness  to  the  keeping  of  one  so  young 
and  inexperienced.  But  he  had  done  it ;  in  forming  her  mind, 
for  her  intercourse  with  him  had  formed  it  more  than  almost 
any  other  circuustance  in  her  life,  he  had,  like  Pygmalion, 
become  enamoured  of  his  own  work  ;  but  that  work  was  any 
thing  rather  than  a  statue  ;  and  Edward  Forrester's  was  a 
heart,  that,  admitting  the  passion  of  love  once,  felt  it  for 
ever. 

"  What  a  beautiful  morning  !  how  fresh  and  delightful  every 
thing  appears  :  the  very  plants  and  flowei-s  seem  to  enjoy  it," 
exclaimed  Emily  ;  "  and  how  lovely  this  prospect  appears!" 

"  And  you  are  going  to  leave  it;  going  to  give  up  the  vernal 
freshness  of  the  spring  for  the  smoky  atmosphere  of  a  city  ; 
this  bright  and  boundless  prospect,  these  beautiful  flowers, 
for  the  circumscribed  view  and  stunted  vegetation  of  a 
London  square  ;"  answered  he,  despondingly. 

"  Well,  my  dear  friend,  am  I  accountable  for  the  caprice  of 
that  fashion  which  makes  the  winter  season  begin  with  the 
spring  and  end  with  the  autumn  ?  Is  it  my  fault  that  a  more 
enlarged  knowledge  of  life  than  I  can  obtain  here  is  consi- 
dered necessary  for  me,  or  that  the  kindness  of  my  friends  will 
imagine  pleasures  for  me  in  society,  of  the  want  of  which  I 
have  been  hitherto  unconscious  ?"  were  the  naive  questions  of 
Emily,  in  reply  to  the  almost  reproachful  tone  in  which  For- 
rester had  spoken. 

"  Forgive  me,  dear  Miss  Hartley."  Emily  shook  her  head 
"  Well  then,  Emily,  since  you  have  condescendingly  allowed 
me  to  address  you  so  familiarly,  forgive  me  if  I  appear  queru- 
lous at  the  idea  of  losing  that  which  has  been  the  principal 
pleasure  of  my  existence." 

"Of  losing  !"  exclaimed  Emily  ;  "  nay,  we  are  only  parting 


24  THE    OXONIAIVS. 

for  a  time.  The  next  three  months  will  pass  rapidly  away, 
and  the  summer  and  autumn  will  witness  the  renewal  of  our 
walks  and  readmgs." 

"To  you  they  may  pass  rapidly,"  replied  Forrester,  "because 
they  will  be  marked  by  new  pleasures,  by  new  scenes  ;  because 
they  will  be  passed  in  a  new  world.  To  me  they  must  banc 
heavily,  as  my  hours  will  only  be  counted  by  my  fears  and 
my  regrets."  He  paused,  and  painful  thoughts  seemed  to 
oppress  him.  "  And  will  you,"  resumed  he,  "  after  the  more 
exciting  pleasures  of  society  and  the  metropolis,  after  the 
gayety,  the  flattery,  that  will  surround  you  there,  return 
with  the  same  zest  for  the  simple  delights  of  study  and  the 
country  ?" 

"  With  a  greater,  believe  me,"  said  Emily  ;  "  but  if  you  arc 
afraid  of  the  evil  influence  of  the  scenes  to  which  I  am  going, 
why  not  come  with  me  ?  why  not  aid  me  with  your  experience, 
and  guide  my  steps  by  your  judgment,  there  as  well  as  here  ? 
Why  should  not  my  Mentor  of  the  country  follow  his  pupil  to 
town  ?  why  permit  your  Telemachus  to  tread  the  danirerous 
shores  of  the  island  of  Calypso  alone  ?"  playfully  asked  Emily. 

"  No,  no.  I  should  be  as  much  out  of  my  element  there,  as 
yonder  rugged  pollard  would  be  if  placed  in  the  midst  of  this 
beautiful  flower-garden  ;"  and  a  painful  sense  of  his  inferiority 
in  the  little  agremens,  and  in  the  manners  of  society,  oppressed 
him  ;  a  p mg  rendered  perhaps  much  greater  by  the  conscious- 
ness of  his  real  superinrity  in  the  more  solid  accomplishments 
of  the  understanding'.  For  a  moment  he  appeared  buried  in 
thought  ;  then  suddenly  exclaiming,  "  Hut  you  iHll  return  the 
same  Emily  that  you  lenve  me ;  tlie  heartless  world  will  have 
no  power  over  the  innocence  of  such  a  mind  as  yours  ;  you 
will  only  learn  to  prize  the  tranquil  pleasures  of  the  country 
the  more,  and  T  will  learn  only  to  rejoice  in  the  pleasures 
which  you  will  enjoy.  Only  promise  me  that  amid  the 
splendour  and  gayety  of  the  scenes  you  are  soing  to  witness, 
amid  the  wit  and  accomplishments  of  the  persona  with  whom 
you  are  about  to  associate,  you  will  sometimes  cast  a  thought 
upon  me  in  my  solitude,  and  I  shall  be  happy." 

"  Oh  believe  me,  many  and  many  will  be  the  hours  devoted 
to  such  remembrances,"  said  the  artless  girl,  to  whom  hiflicrto 
her  evening  rambles  and  morning  readings  with  Forrester  had 
been  the  sources  of  her  greatest  pleasures ;  and  with  this  as- 
surance they  sought  the  house,  which  was  now  in  all  the  bustle 
of  preparation. 

Tn  the  break  fast- room  thev  were  met  by  Mr.  and  Lady 


TUB    OXONIANS.  25 

Emily  Hartley.  The  countenance  of  the  latter  betokened  that 
anxiety  which  is  the  natural  result  of  parting  for  the  first  time 
with  a  beloved  child  ;  for  this  was  indeed  the  first  time  that 
Emily  had  ever  quitted  the  paternal  roof,  and  the  immediate 
protection  of  her  parents. 

It  had  been  originally  intended  that  they  should  have  accom- 
panied her  in  her  first  excursion  to  London,  and  that  an  esta- 
blishment should  have  been  formed  for  the  purpose  of  bringing 
out  Emily,  and  of  launching  her  brother,  on  his  quitting 
college,  into  something  like  public  life ;  but  the  lingering 
illness  of  a  younger  sister  rendering  the  air  of  the  metropolis 
dangerous,  and  requiring,  in  the  eyes  of  Lady  Emily,  the 
tender  cares  of  a  mother,  had  determined  them-  to  defer  the 
establishment  for  another  year,  while  the  pressing  entreaties  of 
a  relative,  whose  Christmas  had  for  many  years  been  passed 
amid^the  festivities  of  Hartley  Grove,  had  at  length  induced 
them  to  allow  Emily  to  make  her  first  appearance  in  the  fash- 
ionable world  under  her  auspices. 

It  was  at  this  festive  period  of  the  year  that  the  quiet  of  the 
domestic  circle  of  the  Hartleys  was  alone  broken  in  upon  by 
a  round  of  fashionable  visiters,  who  were  happy  thus  annually 
to  continue  their  acquaintance  with  Lady  Emily  Hartley,  who 
had  herself  up  to  the  period  of  her  marriage,  and  for  a  few 
years  afterward,  been  one  of  the  principal  leaders  in  the 
fashionable  world.  Some  melancholy  circumstances,  however, 
connected  with  the  fate  of  an  early  and  dear  friend  of  her 
youth,  had  disgusted  her  for  the  moment  with  society,  and  she 
complied  with  the  wish  of  her  husband,  whose  domestic  habits 
ill  accorded  with  the  gayeties  of  fashionable  life,  by  retiring  to 
his  estate,  of  which,  from  the  moment  of  her  residence,  she 
had  been  the  presiding  and  beneficent  genius. 

Here  Mr.  Hartley  had  lived  in  the  true  style  of  an  English 
country  gentleman,  in  the  midst  of  and  looking  after  the  in- 
terests of  his  tenants.  By  this  conduct  he  had  at  the  same 
time  attended  to  the  truest  interests  of  his  own  property,  which 
had  greatly  increased  under  his  superintendence. 

Courted  and  respected  by  the  whole  county,  the  proprietor 
of  Hartley  Grove  kept  up  his  establishment  in  the  style  of  old 
English  hospitality  ;  and  at  Christmas  both  the  married  and 
bachelor  apartments  of  the  mansion  were  filled  for  about 
three  months  by  a  succession  of  visiters,  among  whom  might 
be  reckoned  some  of  the  families  the  most  distinguished  for 
rank,  fashion,  and  importance  in  the  kingdom. 

Lady  }Emily's  connexions  among  the  nobility  were  extcn- 

VoL.  I.— 3 


26  THE    OXOMAKS. 

sive,  and  though  retired  herself  from  the  business  of  fasrnona' 
ble  life,  and  fashionable  life  is  no  easy  business,  until  her 
daughter  was  old  enough  to  tempt  her  again  within  its  vortex, 
she  had  not  been  sorry  thus  annually  to  refresh  her  early  remi- 
niscences by  the  company  of  those  among  whom  she  had  once 
been  the  gayest  of  tlie  gay. 

One  son  and  two  daughters  had  blessed  her  union  with  Mr. 
Hartley,  whom  she  had  married  more  from  her  knowlediie  of 
the  sterling  worth  of  his  character  than  for  the  brilliancy  of 
his  wit,  the  extent  of  his  accomplishments,  or  the  elegance  of 
his  person  ;  and  his  conduct  and  affection  from  the  period  of 
their  marriage  had  never  for  an  instant  caused  her  to  regret  a 
step  by  which  she  had  crushed  the  hopes  and  disappointed  the 
expectations  of  many  candidates  for  her  hand,  who  had  de- 
spised his  humble  pretensions  while  he  was  their  rival.  Dr. 
Johnson  has  said  that  we  become  wise  by  the  experience  of 
others  as  well  as  by  our  own  ;  and  Lady  Emily  had  profited  by 
the  experience  of  the  early  and  dear  friend  before  alluded  to, 
and  wiio  iiad  been  won  by  the  most  accomplished  man  of  the 
day,  to  the  utter  destruction  of  the  happiness  of  her  future 
life,  which  was  one  of  bitter  repentance  from  the  period  of 
her  marriage  to  its  melancholy  termination. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

TUE    FAREWELL. 

Though  distant  from  the  shady  grove 
And  all  the  sylvan  scenes  I  love, 
I  travel  novi' — Believe  me  yet, 
I  never  can  their  claims  forget.         Ballad. 

Tjie  carriage  waited  for  Emily.  There  was  yet  a  spot  to 
be  visited  ;  some  flower  or  shrub  to  be  once  more  gazed  at  and 
recommended  to  the  gardener's  especial  care  ;  another  look  at 
her  boudoir,  her  piano,  her  harp  and  books,  t!ie  friends  of  her 
childhood,  the  companions  of  her  solitude,  the  cheerers  of  her 
youthful  melancholy  (for  youtii,  where  there  is  sensibility,  is 
not  always  exempt  from  its  morbid  iuliuence),  was  necessary 
to  her  heart.  She  again  threw  herself  into  the  arms  of  her 
parents,  and  almost  hesitated  whether,  after  all,  she  could  go 


THE    OXOMA>S. 


t>r  not ;  at  length,  blushing  for  her  weakness,  she  summoned 
her  resolution,  and,  entering  the  hall,  passed  through  the  line 
of  servants  who  were  waiting  to  receive  the  farewell  of  iheir 
beloved  young  mistress.  Here  was  the  old  nurse  of  the  family, 
who  had  been  the  first  to  receive  her  at  her  birth  ;  she  sobbed 
audibly  as  Emily  kissed  her  wrinkled  cheek,  and  recom- 
mended her  birds  to  her  especial  attention.  Every  servant  in 
turn  received  a  kind  farewell,  or  some  commission  to  execute 
during  her  absence.  The  groom  was  recommended  to  exer- 
cise her  favourite  pony  ;  her  two  spaniels.  Slap  and  Dash, the 
constant  companions  of  her  rides  and  walks,  were  placed  under 
the  superintendence  of  the  game-keeper,  with  strict  injunction 
that  they  were  not  to  be  punished,  even  if  they  did  now  and 
then  infringe  a  little  on  tlie  "game  laws,"  and  hunt  for  them- 
selves. Every  one  had  his  connnission,  and  received  it  as  a 
legacy,  the  evidence  of  the  kindness  of  their  young  mistress- 
Forrester  presented  his  hand,  and  placed  her  in  the  carriage, 
with  a  gentle  pressure  and  a  melancholy  look  which  seemed  to 
say,  "  Do  not  quite  forget  me  ;"  and  Lady  Orville,  to  whose 
fashionable  notions  all  this  scene  was  perfectly  incomprehen- 
sible, shook  her  hand  according  to  the  most  orthodox  adieu, 
and  impatiently  desired  the  servants  to  proceed. 

"  Forward,"  was  the  word  ;  smack  went  the  whip,  round 
ivent  the  wheels,  and  off  flew  the  horses  at  the  rate  of  twelve 
miles  an  hour.  Emily  had  scarcely  time  to  give  one  more 
glance  at  the  group  on  the  hall  steps  ere  a  turn  in  the  road 
shut  the  house  altogether  from  her  sight. 

Her  parents,  with  Forrester,  still  lingered  in  the  portico  ; 
their  eyes  fixed  on  the  tracks  of  the  wheels  which  had  borne 
away  one  so  dear  to  them  ;  at  length  they  returned  to  the 
library,  and  the  household  resumed  their  accustomed  avoca- 
tions ;  yet  there  was  that  melancholy  listlessness,  that  inatten- 
tion to  common  pursuits,  that  vacancy  of  heart  which  always 
characterizes  the  separation  from  a  beloved  object. 

To  her  parents  the  house  appeared  deserted  ;  and  Forrester 
seemed  to  have  lost  every  thing  v^hich  had  hitherto  made  his 
Country  life  desirable.  Emily  sunk  back  in  the  carriage,  and 
cove/ing  her  fact  with  her  handkerchief,  hid  those  expressions 
of  ^rie^  which  s!ie  was  sensible  excited  no  sympathy  in  her 
-^■^mpanion,  and  of  which  she  herself  was  almost  ashamed. — 
She  raised  her  eyes  to  take  one  more  look  at  the  house  as  it 
appeared  in  the  distance,  and  gazed  with  affection  on  the 
B-veme  of  lofty  trees  which  led  to  the  park  gates,  and  which 
sno  w;.s  now  quitting  fox  the  first  time. 


28  THE    OXONIANS. 

Every  tree,  as  she  rapidly  passed  it,  derived  additional  in- 
terest in  her  eyes  ;  the  green  leaves  of  spring  had  never,  ir; 
her  sight,  appeared  so  beautiful  and  fresh  ;  and  as  her  eye 
caught  distant  glimpses  of  the  park,  with  its  waters  and  plant- 
ations, she  again  felt  as  though  she  was  parting  with  a  friend 
in  every  feature  of  the  scenery. 

Such  are  always  the  sensations  with  which  we  quit  the  scenes 
of  our  early  youth,  and  used  indeed  must  that  mind  be  in  the 
world,  and  to  worldly  thoughts,  from  which  these  impressions 
are  entirely  effaced. 

The  aged  couple  at  the  Lodge,  old  dependants  of  the  fa- 
mily, who  lifted  up  their  hands  in  a  parting  benediction  as  their 
young  mistress  passed,  aoain  renewed  her  grief;  but  the  rapid 
motion  of  the  carriage,  the  variety  of  scenery  which  attracted 
her  attention,  and  the  anticipated  novelties  of  her  situation, 
soon  enabled  her  mind  to  resume  something  of  its  natural  tone. 

Memory  still  lingered  with  regret  among  the  scenes  she  was 
quitting  ;  but  the  poignancy  of  her  regret  was  soothed  by  the 
anticipation  of  those  to  which  she  was  going.  To  a  young 
mind  with  somewhat  of  a  romantic  imagination,  and  with  a 
taste  for  literature,  the  world  and  society  present  many  anti- 
pated  pleasures.  She  had  read  and  heard  of  artists,  of  poets, 
of  statesmen,  of  wits  and  of  philosophers,  and  now  she  was 
to  see  them,  to  enjoy  the  conversation  of  those  men  at  whose 
works  she  had  wept  or  smiled  ;  she  was  about  to  associate 
with  those  heroes  whose  deeds  in  the  field  she  had  admired, 
at  the  account  of  whose  bravery  her  heart  had  beat  high,  and 
at  whose  dangers  she  had  trembled.  She  was,  in  fact,  going, 
as  she  thought,  to  realize  all  those  imaginings  which  character- 
ize the  years  of  our  inexperience  ;  and  no  wonder  that  the 
brilliant  picture  which  fancy  painted,  soon  obliterated,  or  at 
least  softened,  the  regrets  which  had  hitherto  oppressed  her 
heart. 

Lady  Orville,  who  could  not  even  imagine  feelings  of  sor- 
row, and  much  less  of  acute  regret,  at  quitting  the  dulne^a  of 
a  country  residence,  could  easily  sympathize  with  I'cr  in  her 
anticipations  ;  and  as  her  own  spirits  rose  in  proportion  to  hef 
approximation  to  the  only  scenes  in  which  she  was  calcviate^l 
to  shine,  she  painted  society  in  coloui-s  quite  as  briWant  -xs 
those  which  had  been  conjured  up  in  the  imagination  of  Emilj 
She  spoke  of  routs,  soirees,  quadrilles,  conversazione-S  operas, 
and  fancy  balls,  but  she  never  mentioned  the  insipidity  of  the 
one,  or  the  scandal  that  gave  poignancy  to  others  ;  no'  tud 
her  tongue  indulge  in  any  description  of  that  species  of  *'^' 


THE  oxo^-IA^■s.  29 

citcment  ^?hich  is  produced  by  ecarte,  though  her  own  heart 
beat  as  she  recollected  her  own  losses  and  her  own  hopes  of 
retrieval. 

Her  auditor  listened  attentively,  and  her  young  imagination 
immediately  pictured  these  assemblies,  as  the  resort  of  wit, 
gavety,  and  talent ;  she  saw,  in  imagination,  genius  protected 
by  wealth,  and  taking  its  rank  among  the  more  adventitious 
situations  in  society  ;  her  mind  was  yet  untainted  by  the  vices 
which  poison  those  meetings  for  pleasure  ;  she  was  not  aware 
of  the  intrigues  and  "  tracaseries"'  which  made  such  reunions 
palatable  to  those  who  frequented  them,  or  of  the  ennui  which 
rendered  them  so  necessary  to  such  a  great  portion  of  what 
is  called  society. 

She,  like  others  of  her  age,  looked  only  at  the  bright  side 
of  the  picture  ;  memory  had  as  yet  no  power  to  present  any 
other,  and  youthful  anticipation  is  not  very  likely  to  picture 
scenes  that  are  productive  of  pain.  Alas  !  why  is  it  that  the 
mind  and  the  heart  must  grow  old  as  well  as  the  person,  and 
still  more,  alas  !  why  must  they  grow  old  through  a  series  of 
scenes,  each  one  of  which  strips  from  them  our  ideas  of  the 
excellence  of  onr  kind,  and  adds  another  blot  upon  the  es- 
cutcheon of  human  nature  !  Yet  so  it  is,  so  it  has  ever  been, 
and  so  will  it  ever  be  till  the  end  of  time.  Man  seems  born 
to  anticipate  and  to  be  disappointed.  The  future  years  of  life 
are  spent  in  unlearning  the  little  good  opinion  we  have  im- 
bibed of  mankind  in  our  early  anticipations.  We  look  at  life 
as  we  do  upon  the  beautiful  landscape  reflected  upon  the  soft 
and  clear  bosom  of  the  lake  ;  we  plunge  into  the  waves,  and 
the  picture  vanishes,  leaving  us  nothing  but  the  darkness  of 
the  water  below,  or  the  quicksands  of  tlie  bottom,  in  lieu  of 
the  brilliant  colouring  which  had  delighted  us  at  its  surface. 

But  a  truce  with  reflection.  It  was  made  for  more  philoso- 
phical and  for  graver  pages  than  these  are  intended  to  be  ;  and 
yet  what  pages  are  in  reality  more  philosophical,  or  what  pages 
can  be  graver  than  those  which  are  devoted  to  the  illustration 
of  life  as  it  is.  Why  cannot  we  adopt  and  act  upon  the 
French  motto,  of  "  Vive  la  Bagatelle  !"  Why  should  we  not. 
'ike  a  clown  in  the  pantomime,  laugh  at  every  thing  ;  think  of 
virtue,  friendship,  gratitude,  and  the  long  list  of  excellent  at- 
tributes wliic^a  are  said  to  belong  to  mankind  but  as  shadows  ; 
never  expect  them,  and  never  be  disappointed. 
3* 


THE    OIOMANiv 


CHAPTER  V. 

KETROSPECTIVE. 

Look  back  1  and  why  ?  at  what  ?  upon  a  scene 

Of  mingled  joy  and  sorrow,  both  of  which 

Have  left  behind  but  melancholy  thoughts  ; 

The  one  by  all  the  anguish  it  has  given, 

The  other,  that  it  never  can  return.  Traveller. 

In  life  retrospection  is  seldom  of  service,  unless  it  is  to  call 
into  action  that  experience  which  the  past  may  have  been 
given  us  to  guide  us  in  some  future  event.  To  those  to  whom 
life  has  been  unfortunate,  retrospection  is  melancholy,  as 
orriy  serving  to  renew  our  sufferings  by  a  recollection  of  them ; 
and  to  those  who  have  passed  a  life  of  pleasure,  it  but  too 
often  brings  regret  that  those  pleasures  are  passed,  of  which, 
age  creeping  upon  the  strength  of  our  youth,  is  quickly  ren- 
dering a  recurrence  impossible.  But  in  a  novel,  retrospection 
is  absolutely  necessary. 

To  create  an  interest  in  their  Aite,  an  autiior  is  obliged  to 
plunge  his  readers  at  once  into  the  midst  of  those  personages 
with  whom  he  is  to  travel  through  the  two  volumes  ;  and  it 
becomes  necessary  for  him  afterward  to  give  a  slight  glance 
at  their  families  and  connexions,  to  show  that  he  has  not  been 
introduced  to  improper  characters. 

Having,  therefore,  like  a  careful  guardian,  launched  some 
of  our  young  people  fairly  into  the  world,  we  must  leave  Las- 
celles  to  work  his  mail  coach  ;  Frank  Hartley  to  his  solitary 
dreams  of  Caroline  Dormer,  in  his  post-chaise  ;  and  Emily  to 
her  bright  anticipations  in  Lady  Orville's  carriage ;  all  rolling 
towards  that  great  mart  of  commerce  and  activity,  of  wisdom 
and  folly,  of  learning  and  ignorance,  and  of  virtue  and  ini- 
quity— London — while  we  take  a  cursory  glance  at  Hartley 
Grove  and  the  good  family  who  dwell  in  it. 

Mr.  Hartley  was  one  of  those  country  gentlemen  who  arc 
an  honour  and  an  ornament,  and,  what  is  perhaps  better,  of 


THE    OXONIANS.  31 

infinite  utility  to  England,  and  of  whom,  alas  !  in  later  days 
we  have  had  but  few.  He  lived  on  his  estate,  and  his  utmost 
ambition  was  gratified  by  its  improvement,  and  by  the  good  he 
could  do  to  his  tenantry,  who  were  not  only  numerous  but 
respectable  ;  metropolitan  extravagance  had  not  compelled 
their  landlord  to  raise  his  rents  beyond  their  means  of  pay- 
ment ;  the  Grove  itself  consumed  a  great  portion  of  their  pro- 
duce ;  rents  were  paid,  in  many  instances,  in  kind  ;  and  Mr. 
Hartley's  ten  thousand  a-year  was  not  merely  nominal,  since 
the  tenants,  feeling  the  benefit  of  living  under  such  a  landlord, 
were  as  solicitous  for  the  payment  of  their  rent  as  on  many 
other  estates  they  were  anxious  to  avoid  and  to  postpone  it. 
Mr.  Hartley  himself  looked  after  his  tenants  ;  he  did  not  trust 
to  any  mercenary  steward,  but  was  generally  present  on  the 
quarter  day,  inquired  into  their  means,  and  their  welfare  ;  and 
remitted  the  payment,  or  diminished  it,  where  crops  had  f|allen 
short,  or  where  sickness  or  misfortune  had  rendered  raising  the 
rent  money  a  difiiculty. 

He  had  likewise,  without  regard  to  leases,  granted  under 
extraordinary  circumstances,  made  the  amount  of  his  rents 
keep  pace  with  the  times,  and  regulated  them  according 
to  the  rise  or  diminution  of  the  agricultural  interests  of 
the  country. 

By  living  greatly  within  his  real  income,  instead  of  keeping 
an  establishment  greatly  beyond  iiis  nominal  one,  he  was  not 
only  an  unencumbered  landed  proprietor,  a  rare  thing  in  these 
days,  but  a  man  of  considerable  funded  property,  and  one  who 
had  been  of  infinite  assistance  to  several  of  the  neighbouring 
proprietors  in  the  county,  to  the  great  annoyance  of  mer- 
cenary stewards,  and  of  pettifogging  agents,  who  would 
otherwise  have  made  their  market  of  them,  and  to  whom 
they  would  have  been  an  easy  prey.  By  this  means,  Mr. 
Hartley,  of  Hartley  Grove,  was  beloved  by  the  rich  as  well 
as  the  poor.  As  he  was  no  public  man,  there  w^as  no  political 
rivalry  to  create  him  enemies  among  the  men  ;  and  as  Lady 
Emily's  drawing-room  was  open  to  every  body  in  the  country 
whose  character  was  fair,  and  never  displayed  pretensions,  even 
equal  to  her  rank,  she  was  a  general  favourite  among  the 
ladies,  so  that  the  only  wonder  was,  that,  with  her  husband's 
income,  her  own  accomplishments,  and  her  immense  connex- 
ions in  the  great  world,  she  was  content  to  vegetate  in  the 
country,  instead  of  figuring  away,  as  she  might  have  done,  as 
one  of  the  distinguished  leaders  of  the  ton  during  the  Lon- 
don season. 


S2  THE    OXOMANS. 

''I  am  quite  astonished,"'  hSdy  Pentweasle  would  exclaim, 
*<  that  Lady  Emily  Hartley  can  hury  herself  amid  these  old- 
fashioned  groves  of  chestnuts,  and  be  bored  to  death  with  the 
cawings  of  the  rooks,  when  she  might  have  a  house  in  Gros- 
venor-square,  a  box  at  the  opera,  and  a  command  from  Wind- 
sor, were  she  to  pass  the  season  in  town." 

"  And  then  her  daughter,"  cried  Mrs.  D'Arcy  Wentland  ; 
"  to  sacrifice  her  daughter  I  to  out  off  her  prospects  of  a  bril- 
liant establishment,  by  confining  her  to  the  country,  when  by 
a  judicious  display  of  her  person  and  accomplishments,  she 
might  do  so  well  in  London." 

"  Hum  1"  ejaculated  Lady  Amelia  Scraglands,  "  I  am  not 
quite  so  certain  of  that.  Miss  Emily  Hartley  is  very  well  in  the 
country  ;  and  my  own  opinion  is,  though  that  is  quite  between 
ourselves,  that  Lady  Emily  thinks  that  the  country  is  her 
proper  sphere — hum." 

VVell,  for  my  part,"  said  the  Dowager  Countess  of  Top- 
pleton,  whose  jointure  just  enabled  her  to  keep  up  her  caste, 
"  I  think  Lady  Emily  is  playing  a  game  ;  she  means  her 
daughter  to  burst  at  once  upon  the  town  with  all  her  charms,  and 
to  carry  some  rich  noble  heir  by  storm  ;  she  sees  the  folly  of 
exposing  young  ladies  too  early,  till  they  become  common  and 
the  talk  of  the  town,  and  arc  set  down  as  passies  before  they 
are  out  of  their  teens." 

"  Carry  by  storm,  indeed  !"  ciied  the  Hon.  Miss  Shatterham  : 
■'  very  likely,  with  that  placid  face,  and  blue  eye,  and  fair  hair  ; 
why,  there  is  no  character,  no  expression,  no  sensibility  in  the 
beauty  of  IMiss  Hartley.  No,  no  ;  I  quite  agree  with  Lady 
Amelia  ;  she  may  do  very  well  for  the  country,  but  for  London, 
oh,  dear,  I  assure  you  it  is  quite  a  diflerent  thing." 

Lady  Amelia  Scraglands  bowed. 

"  Pray,  do  dark  beauties  go  off  partictilarly  quickly  in 
town  ?"  asked  Miss  Fairlawn,  vvith  her  usual  simpering  naive 
voice,  and  a  kind  of  half  suiile,  which  showed  very  well  that 
she  knew  she  was  addressing  a  lady  who  had  carried  an 
olive  complexion,  black  eyes,  and  raven  tresses  into  the  matri- 
monial market  some  five  years  ago,  and  that  tlicse  dark  charrns. 
as  though  there  had  been  a  spell  upon  them,  had  still  remained 
on  hand. 

It  is  thus  that  persons  arc  generally  too  apt  to  give  reasons 
for  the  conduct  of  others,  and  never,  with  all  their  sagacity, 
Jiit  upon  the  right  one. 

Lady  Emily  well  knew,  and  properly  appreciated,  the  attrac- 
tions of  her  daughter  ;  she  knew  also  the  rank  of  her  own  and 


THE   OXONIANS.  33 

of  Mr.  Hartley's  family  ;  nor  was  she  insensible  to  the  dis- 
tinction which  rank  confers  ;  but  she  felt  also  that  happiness 
was  preferable  to  every  thing,  and  she  knew  that  rank  alone 
could  not  confer  it ;  yet  both  Mr.  Hartley  and  herself  were 
quite  sufficiently  imbued  with  the  pride  of  family  to  make  a 
certain  portion  of  rank  indispensable  in  the  person  who  married 
either  of  their  children. 

Lady  Emily  had  herself  been  educated  at  a  fashionable 
boarding  school,  had  gone  through  the  modish  regulation 
of  coming  out,  being  presented,  and  had  passed  the  routine  of 
several  London  seasons.  During  this  period  she  had  made  up 
her  mind  as  to  the  evil  tendency  of  such  a  method  of  educa- 
tion ;  she  had  seen  the  heart  schooled  into  heartlessness  ;  she 
had  seen  form  take  the  place  of  feeling  ;  tournure  more  the 
object  both  of  pupil  and  mistress  than  the  mind  or  morals  ; 
and  the  dancing-master  and  the  lady's  maid  of  more  conse- 
quence than  all  the  other  instructors  who  were  employed  upon 
the  establishment.  She  had  seen  all  this,  and  she  had  deter- 
mined never  to  subject  her  own  daughters  to  the  dangers  of  a 
dashing  establishment  of  the  same  kind. 

At  this  school  too,  she  had  formed  a  friendship  which  had, 
in  some  measure  given  a  colour  to  the  whole  of  her  future 
life  ;  and  in  the  early  and  unfortunate  fate  of  her  beloved 
Agnes  she  had  learned  a  deep  and  ineffaceable  lesson,  from 
which  she  was  determined  to  profit  in  the  education  and  esta- 
blishment of  her  own  daughter.  Lady  Emily's  affection  for 
this  early  friend  had  been  strengthened  by  its  object  having 
first  married  her  own  brother,  and  thus  added  the  ties  of  rela- 
tionship to  those  of  friendship. 

This  marriage  had  been  rendered  unhappy  by  the  conduct 
of  Lady  Emily's  brother,  and  was  at  length  dissolved  by  his 
violent  death  in  a  duel,  the  result  of  some  gambling  transac- 
tion. During  the  continuance  of  this  connexion  the  various 
accomplishments  and  character  of  Agnes  had  inspired  the  bo- 
som of  Lord  Arlington,  a  first  cousin  of  Mr.  Hartley,  with  a 
passion  so  ardent,  that,  forgetting  all  his  vows  against  marriage, 
and  all  the  satires  against  the  sex  which  a  too  successful  life 
of  libertinism  had  induced  him  to  indulge,  he  proposed  himself 
as  her  second  husband  ;  and  she,  too  apt  to  believe  in  his  ex- 
pression of  repentaiice  for  his  former  life,  too  good  herself  to 
imagine  depravity  so  deeply  seated,  and  led  away  by  the  ex- 
traordinary accomplishhients  and  great  power  of  pleasing  ex- 
hibited by  Lord  Arlington,  consented  to  be  led  a  second  time 
to  the  altar,  in  spite  of  several  mysterious  warnings  which 


34  THE   OXONIANS. 

would  have  prevented  this  sacrifice  of  one  of  the  loveliest  as 
well  as  one  of  the  most  amiable  of  human  beings. 

Lady  Emily  married  Mr.  Hartley  on  the  same  day  that  her 
friend  Agnes  united  her  fate  with  that  of  his  cousin  Lord  Arlintr. 
ton  ;  and  for  two  seasons  the  friends  were  at  the  head  of  every 
thing  that  was  gay  and  fashionable  in  town  ;  and  what  was  far 
better,  these  fashionable  pursuits  did  not  mar  their  domestic  hap- 
piness. During  this  period  Agnes  had  given  birth  to  a  daughter, 
and  she  was  revelling  in  all  the  delights  of  a  young  mother,  when 
a  discovery  took  place  that,  by  proving  the  father  of  her  child 
to  be  a  villain,  blighted  all  her  happiness  in  the  bud.  A  ladv,  an 
Italian  by  birth,  arrived  in  London,  and  set  up  a  public  and 
prior  claim  to  Lord  Arlington  as  her  husband,  by  a  previous 
marriage  on  the  Continent.  Her  claim  was  but  too  well 
founded.  Agnes  was  in  her  own  eyes  a  disgraced  woman,  and 
her  child  blasted  with  the  stain  of  illegitimacy. 

Shrinking  from  the  world,  as  though  she  were  herself  the 
criminal  instead  of  the  victim,  as  though  she  were  the  guilty 
cause  instead  of  the  innocent  suflerer,  she  fled  with  her  child, 
without  even  communicating  to  her  earliest  friend  the  place  of 
her  retreat.  Her  libertine  husband  also  quitted  a  country 
where  not  all  his  rank  and  influence  could  have  saved  him  from 
the  effects  of  its  ofl^ended  laws,  or  from  the  execrations  of  those 
who  pitied  his  victim  and  abhorred  her  destroyer. 

Lady  Emily,  overcome  by  the  fate  of  her  friend,  imbibed  a 
distaste  for  the  scenes  of  their  mutual  enjoyment,  and  retire^l 
with  her  husband  from  the  great  world  to  Hartley  House, 
where  they  had  lived  happy,  blessed  and  respected  for  a  period 
of  twenty  years,  during  which  time  she  had  never  ceased  to 
lament  the  fate  of  her  early  friend,  to  whose  memory  she  gave 
a  sigh  even  in'the  midst  of  her  own  most  exquisite  enjoyment, 
as  a  mother. 

During  tliis  period  no  certain  tidings  had  ever  been  heard 
of  the  absent  Agnes  ;  and  Lord  Arlinirton  was  only  known  to  be 
alive  through  the  medium  of  his  banker  and  confidential  agent, 
who  had  never  communicated,  even  if  he  knew  it,  the  name 
under  which  he  travelled. 

Rumours  had  brotight  intelligence  of  a  duel  in  some  ob- 
scure corner  of  Italy,  the  result  of  some  other  flagrant  breach 
of  moral  principle,  and  these  rumours  were  coupled  with  ac- 
counts of  the  deaths  both  of  Agnes  and  Lord  Arlington.  But 
nothing  farther  was  known  excepting  vhe  falsehood  of  the  re- 
port of  Lord  Arlington's  death.  He  was  still  living,  though 
;vherc  was  only  known  to  his  agent,  by  whom  the  greater  part 


THE    OXONIANS,  35 

of  his  princely  income  Avas  paid  in  to  bankers  in  different  parts 
of  the  Continent,  so  as  to  meet  his  exigencies  whenever  and 
wherever  he  might  require  his  funds. 

Mr.  Hartley,  though  but  a  distant  one,  Avas  yet  his  nearest 
relative,  and  being  lineally  connected  with  Lord  Arlington, 
and  of  course  presumptive  heiv  to  his  title  and  estate,  the 
agent  thought  it  necessary  to  give  him  periodical  intelligence 
of  the  existence  of  that  nobleman  :  excepting  upon  these  oc- 
casions the  name  of  Arlington  was  never  mentioned.  It  was 
coupled  with  too  many  painful  recollections  in  the  mind  of 
Lady  Emily,  who  dreaded  the  necessity  of  one  day  being 
obliged  to  assume  the  title  by  which  her  early  fiiend  had  been 
so  signally  disgraced.  Many  and  anxious  had  been  her  at- 
tempts, for  the  first  few  years  of  her  absence,  to  discover  the 
retreat  of  Agnes,  and  to  ascertain  the  fate  of  her  child  ;  but 
year  after  year  rolling  on  without  any  intelligence,  she  had 
gradually  admitted  the  idea  that  they  were  both  no  more,  and 
her  inquiries  ceased. 

At  the  period  at  which  our  history  commences.  Hartley  and 
Lady  Emily  had  began  to  feel  the  necessity  of  once  more  en- 
tering the  world  for  the  sake  of  their  children.  Their  son 
had  been  of  age  nearly  two  years,  and  as  v/e  have  seen  was  on  the 
point  of  leaving  college  ;  and  the  fashionable  friends,  who 
formed  their  Christmas  circle  at  the  Grove,  ha<J  at  length 
persuaded  Lady  Emily  to  give  her  daughter  the  advantage  of 
a  winter  in  London  ;  and  willing  to  defer,  yet  a  little  longer, 
appearing  again  at  the  head  of  a  London  establishment,  she 
had  entrusted  Emily,  as  we  have  also  seen,  to  the  care  of  her 
cousin  Lady  Orville,  the  widow  of  the  Earl  of  Orville,  and 
one  of  the  foremost  in  the  ranks  of  fashion.  Had  Lady  Emily 
seen  this  lady  in  town,  instead  of  merely  during  her  periodical 
visits  to  Hartley  Grove,  she  had  paused  before  she  had  con- 
fided so  sacred  a  trust  to  her  charge  ;  but  Lady  Orville  was 
one  of  those  women  who  could  mould  herself  to  please  every 
body,  and  adapt  herself  to  any  society  in  which  she  happened 
to  be  placed.  She  had  therefore  appeared  to  Lady  Emily 
Hartley  just  the  kind  of  person  with  whom,  in  the  absence  of 
her  mother,  Emily  might  be  entrusted. 

Could  Lady  Emily  have  guessed  that  Orville  House  was  the 
most  dissipated  in  town  ;  that,  in  addition  to  the  banquetings 
and  quadrilles,  there  was  play  to  a  considerable  extent ;  and 
that  where  there  was  any'^great  object  to  be  obtained,  the  host- 
ess's eyes  Avere  conveniently  shut  to  any  little  blemishes  of 
character  in  her  numerous  guests,  she  Avould  have  trembled  for 


36  THE    0X0XIAN9. 

her  daughter,  or  rather,  she  would  never  have  permitted  the 
visit  Avhich  was  now  taking  place  with  her  full  and  free  sanc- 
tion. 

Lady  Emily's  knowledge,  however,  of  Lady  On'ille  was  con- 
fined to  the  commencement  of  her  life  ;  before  a  course  of 
dissipation  and  extravagance,  and,  if  report  said  true,  some- 
thing worse  than  either,  had  deteriorated  the  heart  which  Lady 
Emily  had  recollected  to  have  been  distinguished  as  much  by 
its  generosity  as  by  its  gayety.  She  had  known  her  before  the 
developement  of  those  passions  which  had  turned  a  gay  and 
giddy  girl  into  a  dissipated,  violent,  and  artful  woman  ;  and,  had 
her  subsequent  knowledge  of  her  been  in  London  instead  of 
the  country,  she  would  never  have  'recognised  her  early  and 
intimate  friend,  Cecilia  Neville,  in  the  dashing,  dissipated, 
and  profligate  Countess  of  Orville. 


CHAPTER  VL 

COMIXG   OUT. 

These,  with  your  pardon,  are  no  arguments 

To  make  the  country  life  appear  so  hateful, 

At  least  to  you  particularly,  who  enjoyed 

A  blessing  in  tliat  calm.  Shirlev. 

Well,  our  young  Oxonians,  together  with  one  of  our  he- 
roines, for  we  have  many,  were  thus  launched  into  the  great 
world.  To  those  who  are  for  the  first  time  out  of  the  leading 
strings  of  tutors  and  governesses,  who  have  looked  forward  to 
this  liberty  as  tlic  acme  and  climax  of  delight ;  who  have  for 
years  lived  on  the  anticipation  of  the  moment  which  was  to 
enfranchise  them  from  the  trammels  of  scholastic  discipline, 
and  to  open  the  great  panorama  of  life  to  their  view,  the  sen- 
sation of  our  new  comers  may  easily  be  imagined.  The 
change  from  the  tranquillity  of  Hartley  Grove,  and  from  the 
dulness  of  Oxford,  to  the  full  meridian  of  the  world,  was 
equally  electrical.  The  contrast  between  the  study  at  the  one 
and  the  seclusion  of  ihc  other,  and  the  routs,  balls,  dinners, 
operas,  and  plays,  whicli  succeeded  each  other  with  incredible 


THE   OXONIANS.  37 

rapidity,  was  equally  striking  ;  and  was  alike  felt  by  Emily, 
her  brother,  and  Lascelles. 

Tliey  arrived  too,  precisely  at  that  part  of  the  year,  in  which 
tlie  season  of  London  is  at  its  mei-idian,  in  which  all  the  world 
seems  running  and  riotmg  in  a  career  of  dissipation  and  extra- 
vagance ;  when  the  head  is  dizzied  by  the  rapid  whirl  of  the 
thousand  vehicles  which  dart  through  the  streets,  bearing  their 
owners  on  their  various  pursuits  by  day  ;  and  bewildered  by 
the  rapid  and  repeated  reverberations  of  a  chorus  of  knockers 
by  night :  when  hall  tables  are  crowded  by  pasteboard  chal- 
lenges to  dinners  and  quadrilles,  as  though  there  were  nothing 
in  the  world  to  do  but  to  dance  and  to  dine,  and  nothing  in  life 
to  attend  to  but  amusement  and  pleasure.  Yet  it  is  astonish- 
ing what  an  amazing  quantity  of  real  and  important  business 
is  done  even  in  the  midst  of  this  whirl  of  dissipation.  A  phi- 
losophical spectator,  in  viewing  the  endless  pursuits  of  gayety 
and  succession  of  tumultuous  pleasures,  which  seem  to  swallow 
up  every  hour  of  every  body's  existence,  would  imagine  that 
the  business  of  the  world  must  stand  still  until  the  mania  had 
passed,  and  is  astonished  to  find  that  it  is  precisely  at  this  pe- 
riod of  the  j'ear,  when  every  one  seems  involved  in  the  same 
vortex,  and  pursuing  the  same  dissipated  course,  that  the  most 
important  business  of  life  is  accomplished. 

The  splendid  banquet,  the  nightly  assembly,  the  crowded 
opera,  does  not  thin  the  attendance  on  the  benches  of  the 
Lords  and  Commons  ;  and  it  is  in  the  midst  of  these  tu- 
multuous pursuits  that  the  business  of  the  nation  is  arranged, 
and  the  great  machine  of  the  Government  kept  in  motion. 

In  the  same  manner,  it  is  during  this  period  of  dissipation 
that  our  Law  Courts  are  open,  and  the  justice  of  the  kingdom 
administered  in  the  morning  by  the  very  persons  from  whom 
Ave  have  parted  only  a  few  hours  before  at  a  convivial  meet- 
ing, or,  perhaps,  a  less  innocent  society.  Pleasure  and  business 
roll  on  together  ;  the  statesman  forgets  his  politics  in  the  draw- 
ing-room ;  the  Judge  forgets  his  law  at  the  dinner-table ;  and 
the  clergyman  his  divinity  in  a  quadrille ;  while  in  the  day-time, 
no  one  would  ever  recognise  the  witty  and  careless  conversa- 
tionist, the  facetious  companion,  or  the  male  flirt,  in  the 
Parliament  House,  the  Court  of  King's  Bench,  or  the  pulpit. 

The  fact  is,  that  where  men  are  congregated  for  business, 
women  are  sure  to  congregate  for  pleasure.  It  is  this  union 
of  business  and  pleasure  that  forms  in  our  metropolis  what  is 
called  "  The  Season."  And  it  is  indeed  the  season  for  every 
thing  that  is  desirable,  and  every  thing  that  is  pernicious  ;  for 

Vol.  I.~4 


38  THE   OXONLVKS. 

politics  as  well  as  pleasure  ;  for  law  as  well  as  love  ;  for  the 
learned  as  well  as  the  illiterate  ;  for  the  miser  as  well  as  the 
spendthrift ;  for  the  "  snob"  as  well  as  the  gentleman. 

I  believe  in  no  other  part  of  the  world  is  this  season  so  dis- 
tinctly marked  as  in  our  own  metropolis.  In  most  other  capi- 
tals there  are  two  or  three  periods  of  the  year  at  which  a  man 
of  fashion  may  venture  to  show  his  face  on  the  pave  ;  but  in 
London  this  privilege  is  confined  to  a  very  few  months,  which 
are  much  better  designated  by  the  crowded  streets  than  by  any 
almanac  that  was  ever  invented.  That  this  period  should  be 
precisely  that  in  which  a  city  is  the  most  unpleasant,  and  the 
country  the  most  beautiful,  is  a  circumstance  for  which  we 
cannot  account,  unless  it  be  that  fashion  disdains  to  be  guided 
by  reason  and  nature,  and  pretends  a  preference  for  crowded 
streets  when  the  trees  are  in  all  the  beauty  of  spring,  and  for 
the  country  when  the  fields  are  covered  with  snow.  It  is  use- 
less however,  to  sift  the  meaning  of  fashion,  or  of  fashionable 
people  ;  the  course  of  their  proceedings  is  so  eccentric,  that 
it  is  beyond  tlie  depths  of  our  philosophy  to  trace  it  ;  we  are 
content  with  seeing  things  as  they  are,  and  bow  to  the  dictates 
of  a  deity  whose  laws  guide  Kings,  Lords,  and  Commons, 
without  regard  to  the  Constitution. 

The  birth  and  fortunes  both  of  Hartley  and  Lascelles  at 
once  commanded  admission  into  the  upper  classes  of  society. 
Their  families  were  too  well  known  to  require  any  farther  in- 
troduction for  them,  than  being  the  scions  of  the  parent  stock. 
Every  door  was  open  to  them,  and  invitations  poured  in  from 
all  quarters.  Indeed,  had  not  their  rank  ensured  them  these 
privileges,  seven  thousand  a-ycar  in  possessifjn  would  have  se- 
cured Lascelles  a  welcome  reception  ;  and  fifteen  thousand 
per  annum  in  expectancy  would  have  made  Hartley  a  very 
desirable  addition  to  any  family,  however  noble  in  birth  or  aris- 
tocratic in  its  notions  ;  for  it  is  astonishing  how  all  the  pride 
of  pedigree  will  melt  under  the  golden  influence  of  three  per 
cent,  consols,  or  of  a  rent  roll. 

The  path  into  fashionable  society  was  therefore  smooth  for 
them,  and  they  entered  it  with  all  the  advantages  of  youth, 
rank,  and  fortuiic.  The  moment  they  appeared  and  were 
known,  every  family  where  there  were  marrigeable  daughters 
became  particularly  attentive,  and  many  were  the  private  lec- 
tures given  by  mothers,  aunts,  and  chaperones,  to  daughters, 
nieces,  and  protegees,  upon  the  subject  of  making  themselves 
agreeable  to  young  men  who  possessed  such  decided  advan- 
tages. New  to  the  town,  there  was  many  a  dowager  who  thought 


THE  OXONIANS.  39 

they  might  be  easily  caught ;  and  even  some  of  those  whose 
beauty  was  on  the  wane  in  the  matrimonial  market,  plucked 
up  their  courage,  renewed  their  tints,  and  cherished  hopes  at 
the  sight  of  two  young  men  to  whom  their  persons  were  new, 
and  who  were  ignorant  of  their  having  been  out  these  five 
years. 

Thus  received  and  feted,  no  wonder  that  our  Oxonians 
found  life  and  London  agreeable.  They  attributed  all  the  at- 
tention they  received  to  their  own  personal  attractions  ;  their 
vanity  was  gratified  ;  and  being  thus  pleased  with  themselves, 
they  found  it  no  difficult  task  to  please  others. 

For  our  own  part,  when  we  see  a  younsr  man  come  out, 
who  is  known  to  have  a  tolerable  fortune,  either  in  possession 
or  expectancy,  we  are  always  inclined  to  pity  him,  for  the  or- 
deal of  mothers,  aunts,  and  young  ladies,  that  he  is  obliged 
to  pass,  for  the  batteries  of  fine  eyes  that  he  is  compelled  to 
endure,  and  for  all  the  various  arts  that  are  spread  to  entrap 
him  ;  though  we  have  smiled,  and  have  been  disgusted  at  the 
manner  in  which  the  attractions  of  young  unmarried  women 
Lave  been  forced  into  notice  ;  their  charms  and  accomplish- 
ments displayed  ;  and  the  whole  et  caetera  of"  Woman's  wiles" 
put  in  requisition  to  accomplish  the  great  end  of  woman's  life 
— •'  an  establishment." 

Yet  we  verily  believe,  that  were  young  ladies  left  to  them- 
selves this  would  never  be  tlie  case  ;  their  youthful  hearts  are 
quite  satisfied  with  the  novelty  which  their  "  coming  out"  pre- 
sents ;  and  their  own  ambition  is  bounded  by  the  enjoyment 
of  the  passing  gayeties  of  the  moment,  ft  is  to  the  ambition 
of  those  who  superintend  their  "  brinsing  out,"  that  this  in- 
delicacy is  to  be  attributed.  There* is  more  rivalry  among 
mothers,  who  shall  first  establish  their  daughters,  than  among 
the  (laughters,  who  shall  first  see  matronly  appellations  attached 
to  their  names  :  and  so  strong  is  this  passion  amonir  a  certain 
set  of  elderly  and  middle  aged  ladies,  that  we  have  actually 
known  them  to  keep  accurate  accounts  of  the  civilities  and 
attentions  paid  to  their  protegees,  that  they  may  at  some  op- 
portune period  array  them  in  accusation  against  some  unfor- 
tunate wight,  who  had  never  any  other  attention  than  a  mo- 
mentary politeness  to  some  "  Cynthia  of  a  minute."  By 
these  ladies,  a  challenge  to  a  glass  of  wine  at  dinner  is  mag- 
nified into  a  declaration  of  love,  and  two  quadrilles  in  the 
same  evening  interpreted  into  a  proposal  of  marriage. 

But  these  women  of  the  world  mistake  the  matter  amaz- 
ingly ;  they  seem  to  forget,  that 


40  THE  OXOIOANS. 

"  La  simplicitc  plait  sans  etude  ct  eans  arl ;" 

and  that  the  channs  that  are  displayed  become  valueless  in  thr 
eyes  of  any  man  with  either  a  feeling  heart  or  a  delicate  niind  : 
and  many  an  instance  have  we  known  of  the  impression 
created  by  a  young  lady  having  been  utterly  elFaced  by  the 
very  means  which  were  taken  to  render  it  indelible.  A  wo- 
man's beauty  should  win  its  way,  and  not  force  itself  upon  our 
notice.  She  should  be  as  modest  in  the  display  of  her  accom- 
plishments as  of  her  person.  The  oyster  which  contains  thr; 
pearl  of  price  seeks  the  deepest  water  and  the  most  retired 
stations,  as  though  conscious  of  the  value  of  the  jewel  it  pos- 
sesses. Let  women  imitate  this  humble  atom  of  creation,  and 
at  the  same  time  recollect  that  the  pearl  is  the  more  valued  by 
the  difficulty  of  its  attainment. 

And  now  having  led  on  this  digressing  dissertation  till  I 
dare  say  the  whole  of  what  the  French  call  the  "  beau  sex,'" 
are  disgusted  by  being  compared  to  an  oyster,  we  will  pro- 
ceed with  our  history,  if  that  can  be  callet^  a  history  whicli 
must  consist  of  detached  scenes  and  of  desultory  observations 
on  life  as  it  really  passes,  without  any  of  those  violent  incidents 
and  extraordinary  interests  which  are  the  general  character- 
istic of  pages  of  fiction. 

All  these  ordeals  our  young  men  were  destined  to  pass  in 
their  first  entrance  into  the  world.  Hartley  was  well  pleased 
enough  with  the  attention  he  received,  and  with  the  numerous 
invitations  to  which  it  gave  rise :  but,  independently  of  the 
pre-occupation  of  his  heart  by  a  passion  which  he  tried  to 
persuade  himself  was  to  be  eternal,  he  passed  the  battery  of 
sighs,  glances,  and  even  gentle  pressures  of  the  hand,  unscathed 
and  untouched  ;  though  at  the  same  time  he  induljred  in  all 
the  vanity  which  is  gratified  by  those  little  secret  intelligences 
which  were  permitted  to  exist  between  him  and  some  halt 
dozen  young  ladies  who  ranked  among  the  reigning  belles  of 
the  moment. 

Hartley  possessed  a  great  store  of  animal  spirits,  and  the 
desultory  fits  of  study  by  which  he  had  sometimes  been  seized, 
added  to  a  very  retentive  memory  and  a  strong  imagination, 
gave  him  so  much  facility  of  conversation,  that,  though  he 
did  not  rank  among  tlie  wits  of  the  day,  he  was  soon  pro- 
nounced a  clever  agreeable  man,  and  was  very  seldom  con- 
sidered de  trop,  even  by  those  who  were  hopeless  of  any  thing 
from  him  beyond  the  entertainment  of  the  moment. 

But  Lascelles  ^vas  quite  a  difterent  person.     Ho  was  no 


THE   OXONIA?C2.  41 

Jadies'  man.  All  topics  that  did  not  emanate  from  a  love  of 
those  favourite  pursuits  which  he  was  pleased  to  call  manly  en- 
nuveii  him  to  death.  At  dinner  he  would  gape  over  a  poli- 
tical or  literary  discussion  ;  pronounced  quadrilles  to  be  in- 
fernal ;  ana  the  necessity  of  doing  the  agreeable  a  d — d  bore. 
He  soou  tnerelore  detached  himself  from  the  circle  from 
which  he  coulu  not  entice  Hartley  ;  and,  surrounded  by  the  fancy, 
who  elected  him  their  patron,  or  by  "  gentlemen"  of  the  turf, 
who  allowed  him  to  be  their  dupe  ;  he  was  oftener  heard  of 
at  Tattersal's  and  the  One  Tun,  making  up  his  books  for  the 
Derby,  and  the  St.  Leger,  or  forming  a  match  between  the 
Chicken  and  the  Gas  man  ;  than  in  the  midst  of  that  elite  of 
society,  to  which  he  had  the  privilege  of  admittance. 

Were  this  book  written  with  any  other  view  than  that  of  the 
entertainment  ot  ttie  moment,  the  entrance  of  two  young  men, 
into  such  a  world  as  ours,  opens  a  fine  field  for  moralizing, 
and  presents  great  scope  for  pointing  out  all  the  difficulties 
and  dangers  which  abound  every  where  at  the  commencement 
of  a  life  in  London. 

That  class  of  society,  who  live  by  preying  upon  the  inex- 
perience of  others,  might  be  shown  up,  gambling  speculations 
exposed,  pretended  friendships  shown  in  their  true  colours,  and 
an  attempt  made  to  give  that  knowledge  by  precept  which 
every  body  is  sure  to  learn  in  time  by  experience. 

But,  independently  of  its  not  being  the  province  of  a  work 
-of  this  kind  to  moralize,  we  are  too  sensible  of  the  vanity  of 
mankind  to  attempt  to  throw  away  our  valuable  time,  and  still 
more  valuable  types,  upon  a  vain  attempt  to  appear  more 
knowing  than  all  young  men  think  themselves  to  be  at  their 
first  onset  into  this  fine  world,  of  which  they  have  had  sp  much 
experience,  and  gained  so  much  knowledge  in  their  classics 
and  cricket  at  Eton  or  Westminster,  and  in  their  exercises  at 
Oxford  or  Cambridge. 

There  is  scarcely  a  young  man  who  does  not  think  himself 
quite  competent  to  detect  fraud  and  expose  hypocrisy  ;  or  who 
would  not  be  offended  at  any  friendly  attempt  to  warn  him 
against  the  effects  of  either  the  one  or  the  other.  Suffice  it 
therefore  merely  to  hint  that  life  abounds  with  those  whose 
province  it  is  to  "  wait  upon"  those  fortunate  youths  possessed 
of  a  superabundance  of  wealth ;  and  who  are  i-eady  enough 
to  ease  them  of  the  burden  even  to  beggary.  Nor  are  these 
gentry  confined  to  that  class  of  society  in  which  alone  one 
might  expect  them  to  be  found,  since  there  are  "  Honourables," 
and  ^'  Hight  honourables,"  who,  were  their  conduct  and  actiona 

4* 


42  THE   OXONIANS. 

inspected  closely,  would,  I  fear,  be  classed  by  an  accurate  ob- 
server or  moralist  among  those  whom  the  law  designates  as 
swindlers. 

Let  every  man  who  has  passed  through  life  with  a  pretty 
general  acquaintance  of  mankind,  examine  -liis  own  recol- 
lections of  society,  o.nd  say,  whether  he  could  not  put  his  hand 
upon  this  man,  and  upon  that  man,  and  say  that  he  belbngs 
to  the  scenes  above  described. 

As  we  have  before  observed,  there  is  not  a  flower  without 
a  worm  to  destroy  it,  so  there  is  no  fortune  that  there  is  not 
a  hundred  sharpers  ready  to  prey  upon  the  ioexperience  of  its 
possessor. 

Would  that  there  were  some  modern  Asmodeus  appointed 
to  receive  young  men  at  their  first  initiation  into  life,  whose 
duty  it  would  be  to  go  the  rounds  with  him  during  the  first 
month  of  his  ordeal,  and  designate  the  various  characters  in 
the  drama  in  which  he  is  going  to  act.  How  many  might  the 
initiated  be  induced  to  avoid,  with  whom  he  will  now  associate. 
and  become  intimate.  How  many  examples  might  be  pointed 
out,  that  would  make  him  shudder  at  a  fate  that  may  too  prc- 
bably  be  his  own. 

"  Who  is  that  pale-faced,  haggard-looking  man,  half  genteel, 
half  shabby,  but  whose  habiliments,  worn  as  they  are,  cannot 
hide  the  air  of  the  gentleman  ?"  he  might,  perhaps,  inquire. 

"  That,"  Asmodeus  would  reply,  "  is ,  once  like  your- 
self, possessed  of  wealth,  youth,  talents,  and  a  princely  fortune, 
squandered  away  at  the  shrine  of  vanity,  bestowed  upon  false 
and  ungrateful  friends,  or  won  by  unprincipled  sharpers  ;  till, 
as  his  fortune  diminished,  his  friends  dwindled  away,  and  you 
see  him  now  out  upon  a  day  rule  from  the  King's  Bench,  to 
flit  like  a  ghost  about  the  scene  of  his  former  unworthy 
triumphs,  and  to  extract  a  guinea  from  the  unwilling  hands 
among  which  the  principal  part  of  his  own  fortune  has  been 
distributed." 

How  many  more  features  of  the  same  sort  might  not  be 
pointed  out  among  the  moving  cosmorama  of  a  London  street  '^ 
but  it  is  all  useless  ;  experience  must  be  purchased  by  expe- 
rience, and  young  men  must  still  go  on,  without  learning  the 
real  use  of  a  fortune,  till  they  have  no  longer  one  to  spend. 

What  the  effect  of  the  fiist  entree  into  life  had  upon  the 
subjects  of  our  present  history,  we  shall,  perhaps,  better  see 
by  their  own  letters  in  the  next  Chapter,  than  by  any  descrip- 
tion which  wc  ourselves  can  give. 


I 


THE   OXOKUNS.  43 


CHAPTER  VII. 

CORRESPONDEKCE. 


Oh,  'tis  a  mad  world — my  masters.  Shakspeare. 


F.  HARTLEY    TO    CHARLES    STRICTLAND. 

Well,  my  dear  Strictland,  here  I  am,  in  the  very  midst  of 
the  gay  world,  and  though  not  the  *'  gayest  of  the  gay,"  I  am 
quite  enough  so  to  laugh  at  all  the  moral  lectures  you  used  to 
read  to  me  of  the  insufficiency  of  the  world,  of  the  pleasures 
of  retirement,  and  the  delights  of  study.  Upon  my  soul,  my 
dear  fellow,  you  had  better  leave  your  musty  books,  and  the 
worm-eaten  wainscot  of  your  rooms  at  Oxford,  and  come  and 
spend  a  few  months  with  me  in  the  shades  of  my  curtain 
*'  couleur  de  rose,"  in  Cavendish  Square.  I  could  get  a  hun- 
dred fair  damsels  to  take  pity  upon  you,  and  to  polish  off  the 
rust  of  the  college,  and  to  transform  you  from  a  book-worm 
into  a  man  "  comma  il  faut."  But  I  know  it  is  in  vain  to  ask 
you  ;  you  prefer  the  classics  to  a  quadrille ;  the  disciples  ol 
the  Stoa  to  the  guests  of  the  dining  room  ;  and  the  lumbering 
lore  of  the  ancients  to  the  light  literature  of  the  moderns. 

But  what,  in  the  name  of  wonder,  can  make  philosophers 
rail  so  against  the  world.  Tt  certainly  is  a  beautiful  world, 
and  contains  every  delight  that  man  is  capable-  of  enjoying  ; 
and  it  must  be  a  good  world,  for  here  am  I,  a  perfect  stranger, 
received  by  a  hundred  families  I  never  saw  before,  upon  the 
footing  of  an  old  friend.  It  must  be  a  hospitable  world,  for 
my  table  is  so  crowded  with  invitations,  that  could  I  cut 
myself  into  a  hundred  pieces,  I  should  find  a  dinner  and  a 
dance  for  every  individual  atom  into  which  I  should  divide 
myself.  Wherever  I  go  1  am  welcomed  by  hearty  shakes  of 
the  hand  j  wherever  I  turn,  I  am  met  by  smiles  and  looks  of 


14  THE    OXONIANS. 

approbation.  The  conversation,  which  you  used  to  designate 
as  frjvolous,  here  passes  for  wii  ;  and  I  never  attempt  a  sally 
that  does  not  meet  with  the  approbation  of  a  dozen  pair  of 
briglit  eyes,  which  give  me  so  inucli  encouragement,  that  in 
spite  of  your  predictions  to  the  contrary,  I  really  becin  to 
think  myself  a  prodiyiously  clever  f'jllow.  That  otheis  think 
me  so,  i  am  rather  inclined  to  believe  ;  for  I  had  not  been  in 

town  a  riijrht  before  I  was  iniiiafed  into  the  suppers  at  C s  ; 

or  a  week,  before  I  was  elected  a  member  of  the  Cocoa  tree 
and  Artiiur's.  The  first  opera  nighi,  two  young  lords  kept 
their  carriages  at  full  gallop,  am)  carried  up  the  mystic  number, 
to    make    me   a    member   at  White's.     I    had  the  entree  of 

M House,  without  undergoing  the  usual   probation  ;   and 

vouchers  were  sent  to  me  for  Alinacks,' without  the  preliminary 
of  entreaty.  At  all  this  your  ijravity  will  laugh  ;  but  what  do 
you  say  to  a  |)olitic-al  employe,  asking  my  o[)inioM  upon  the 
balance  of  power  in  Europe ;  a  young  clerL'vnian  consulting 
me  upon  a  knotty  point  in  theology  ;  and  a  celebrated  author 
requesting  my  criticism  upon  a  passage  in  his  new  work.  It 
is  true,  that  the  politician  thought  I  was  to  sit  %r  my  father's 
vacant  borough.  The  parson  asked  me  how  old  the  present 
incumbent  of  Hartley  vicarage  might  be;  and  the  author 
finished  by  putting  my  name  down  as  a  subscriber  for  ten 
copies  of  his  work.  But  this  you  know  was  all  in  the  way  of 
their  various  metiers,  and  could  have  no  influence  on  their 
motives  ;  though  i  did  feel  rather  qualmish  about  it  at  the 
time. 

Then  my  apartment  is  crowded  in  the  morning  with  artists 
and  authors,  with  professors  and  amateurs,  all  looking  eagerly 
up  to  my  opinion,  requesting  my  recommendation,  and  solicit- 
ing my  patronage. 

Oh,  it  certainly  is  a  delightful  world  ;  and  the  women, 
Strictland,  the  women — take  your  eyes  ofT  that  passage  of 
Thucydides,  Strictland,  and  attend  to  what  I  have  to  say  about 
the  women !  At  Oxford  we  knew  scarcely  any,  excepting 
the  pastry  cook's  daughter,  and  our  bed  makers :  queer 
specimens  of  the  fair  sex  to  be  sure,  yet  the  only  ones  that  we 
Oxonians  generally  knov/,  until  we  make  our  entrance  into  the 
great  world.  To  be  sure  there  was  one,  but  then  you  don't 
know  her  ;  so  no  matter.  The  women  here  are  certainly  de- 
lightful ;  the  old  ones  all  chatter  and  kindness ;  the  young 
ones  all  artlepsness  and  gayety  :  no  formality  to  repress  one : 
no  demureness  to  freeze  one  into  ice  ;  but  open  as  the  day. 
free  as  air,  and  lovely  as — but  comparisons  arc  said  to  be 


THE   OXONIANS.  45 

odious,  and  I  can  really  find  none  that  is  not  so  in  comparison 
Avith  women.  Then  their  beauty,  as  varied  as  it  is  alluring. 
Brunettes  and  blondes,  jetty  and  auburn  ;  black  eyes  and  blue 
eyes,  with  a  plentiful  sprinkle  of  the  true  iiazle  ;  with  forms, 
from  incipient  womanhood  up  to  the  stately  matron,  all  equally 
beautiful  of  their  kind. 

Mahomet  must  have  paid  a  visit  to  England,  and  there  ima- 
gined his  Paradise  ;  for  I  do  not  think  there  is  any  country 
under  the  sun  which  can  make  such  a  display  of  beauty  as  that 
which  forms  the  present  j^alaxy  of  female  attraction  in  London. 
Then  their  air,  their  manners ;  then,  what  the  French  call 
"  tournure,''^  is  absolutely  indescribable  ;  th«n  they  are  so  kind, 
listen  to  what  one  says  with  such  attention,  laugh  at  one's 
bon-mots  (which  you  never  would  do),  sing  and  dance  when 
they  are  asked,  lean  their  lovely  forms  upon  your  arm  when 
they  are  fatigued,  sip  their  ice.s  with  such  grace.  Oh,  Strict- 
land,  Strictland  !  what  do  you  riot  lore  by  being  moped  up  in 
a  College  all  your  life ;  it  is  a  beautif'd  world,  and  I  will  main- 
tain it  against  all  the  dogmas  of  the  most  dogmatical  cynic 
that  ever  lived  in  a  tub,  or  scribbled  philosophy.  Thus,  you 
see,  I  give  the  lie  to  the  verse  of  the  discontented  Deshouliers 
which  you  love  to  quote, 

Nul  n'est  content  de  sa  fortune, 
Ni  mecontent  de  son  esprit : 

for  you  see  that  I  am  perfectly  content  with  both. 

As  to  my  present  life,  imagine  one  scene  of  perpetual  plea- 
sure and  gayety,  with  just  enough  repose  to  prepare  me  for  its 
enjoyment  and  to  rest  me  from  its  fatigues,  and  you  have  its 
history.  But  you  will  blame  all  thi? ;  you  will  call  that  folly 
which  I  call  delight ;  but  yet  I  will  maintain  that  it  is  a  beau- 
tiful world. 

The  family  in  which  I  arn  most  intimate  is  that  of  the  Coun- 
tess of  Orville,  who  has  the  charge  of  bringing  out  my  sister. 
You  remember  Orvdie  her  son  ;  he  quitted  Christchurch  just 
a  year  after  our  arrival,  on  his  access^ion  to  the  earldom,  by  the 
death  of  his  father.  He  was  there,  if  you  recollect,  denomi- 
nated the  fine  gentleman  ;  a  character  which  he  has  preserved 
in  the  world,  as  he  is  looked  up  to  by  hundreds  of  imitators 
who  dress  after  his  model  and  follow  his  fa=>hions,  revolving 
around  him  as  their  orbit,  and,  like  his  satellites,  borrowing  all 
the  lustre  of  which  they  can  boast  from  his  reflection.  He  is 
not  only  a  fine  gentleman,  but  a  good  fellow  ;  we  are  very  in- 


46  THE  OXONIANS. 

timale,  and  he  has  promised  to  initiate  me  into  all  the  best 
thinps  in  town.  Indeed  it  is,  1  beheve,  to  his  influence  that  i 
may  mainly  attribute  my  easy  entrance  info  the  clubs.  Lady 
Orville  herself  is  a  perlecl  woman  of  fashion,  and  I  suspect  of 
the  world  ;  very  kind  and  patronizing  to  me,  and  lier  good 
word  goes  a  greiJt  way  in  society.  There  are  two  daughters, 
one  married  and  the  other  single  ;  of  them  I  can  say  little,  but 
that  they  are  kind  in  the  extreme,  and  overwiiclni  me  with 
attention.  In  short,  the  whole  world  seems  to  vie  who  shall 
mak(  themselves  most  agreeable  to  me  ;  and  I  again  say  it  is 
a  beautiful  world,  and  you  shall  not  gainsay  it. 

At  Orville  House  1  met  with  many  of  our  old  Oxonians,  and 
amoiiff  the  rest  Langley,  whom  you  must  recollect,  varying 
his  pursuits  with  every  man  of  the  day  ;  here  he  is  the  life  of 
every  party,  and  [)reserving  his  usual  flow  of  spirits  in  spite  of 
the  late  decree  by  winch  he  has  been  deprived  of  so  great  a 
portion  of  his  fortune.  He,  with  a  hundred  other  pleasant 
fellows,  makes  time  pass  merrily  ;  and  then  they  have  all  such 
good  hearts-  that  1  litid  myself  daily  increasing  the  number  of 
friends,  th'  I igh  never  to  the  exclusion  of  you,  my  dear  fel- 
low. B\  tlie-by,  you  will  so'^n  be  a  Fellow  in  reality;  so 
adieu.  V\  ite  me  a  dull  line  from  your  dull  College,  and  be- 
lieve me, 

Sincerely  yours, 

Fkank  Hartley. 

To  this  vivid  epistlo  a  few  posts  broutrht  the  following 
reply : 

"  Were  1,  my  dear  Hartley,  to  enter  life,  the  heir  of 
fifteen  thousand  a  year,  with  an  t  iirldom  in  ex|)ectancy,  I  dare 
say  I  should  find  every  thing  "  Couleiir  de  rose,''''  as  you  do. 
As  this,  however,  is  not  the  case,  1  must  content  myself  with 
dreaniinj;  of  lawn  sleeves,  pushing  my  night  c;i|)  into  the 
shape  of  a  mitre  in  ihy  sleep,  and  devntitig  myself  to  divinity, 
but  shall  always  reiuiiin  your  attached  triend, 

Charles  Sprictland." 

As  Hartley  read  this  laconic  epistle,  which  seemed  to  cast 
a  doubt  upon  the  motives  of  the  attentions  he  received,  and 
the  pleasures  which  were  procured  for  liim,  he  crumbled  it  in 
liis  hand  with  a  momentary  start  of  anger,  and  exclaiming,  "A 
very  Diogenes!"  threw  it  into  the  fire. 

Before,  however,  it  was  consumed,  both  the  anger,  and  the 
momentary  reflection  which  it  had  excited  had  vanished  ;  and 


THE   OSO^'IANS.  47 

Orville  being  announced,  away  they  went  in  their  daily  pursuits, 
and  Strictland  with  his  strictures  were  forgotten. 

The  epistle  of  Lascelles  was  rather  of  a  different  species 
from  that  of  Hartley,  yet  it  showed  him  quite  as  well  pleased 
with  his  first  start  into  life.     It  began  : 

Dear  Jack, 

Why  the  devil  do  you  stay  moping  at  College  when  there 
is  so  much  to  be  done  here.  Depend  upon  it,  it  is  all  lost 
time  :  for  old  Homer  or  Horace  will  never  give  you  an  idea  of 
who  will  win  the  St.  Leger  or  the  Derby  ;  Cicero  knew 
nothing  of  cockfighting  ;  and  Thucydides  and  Xenophon  have 
not  a  sentence  to  warn  you  against  those  modern  "  Greeks" 
which  I  am  told  to  be  aware  of  here.  The  old  Romans  might 
know  something  of  gymnastics  ;  but  they  were  totally  ignorant 
of  the  pugilistic  science,  as  we  learn  it  at  the  Tennis  Court. 
Take  the  reins  from  Tom  Trot,  and  drive  yourself  up  to  this 
glorious  place.  I  have  a  prime  set  of  fellows  about  me,  and 
am  already  initiated  into  all  the  mysteries  of  Doncaster  and 
Newmarket.  There  is  Tattersal's  to  study  horse  flesh  and 
make  your  bets  at ;  Rotten-row  to  take  your  morning's  canter  ; 
the  Shooting  Gallery  and  Jackson's  to  exercise  yourself  in  the 
fine  arts  ;  the  One  Tun  to  dine  at,  and  a  set  of  prime  spirits 
to  entertain  you.  What  is  the  best  of  all  is,  that  there  is  not 
one  who  does  not  try  to  make  me  as  wise  as  himself;  so  that 
I  shall  be  quite  knowing  v.'ithout  the  trouble  of  experience.  As 
to  Hartley,  he  is  a  milksop,  quite  a  ladies'  man,  dangles  after 
women  of  fashion,  hands  them  to  their  carriages  at  the  Opera, 
picks  up  their  fans  at  a  quadrille,  and  dines  at  d — d  dull  parties 
where  they  talk  politics  ;  not  but  what  I  have  what  Hartley 
calls  my  female  society  too  ;  for  what  is  the  world  without 
women,  and  mine  are  fine  women  too,  not  formal  or  ceremo- 
nious :  they  drink  champagne,  ride  full  gallop,  and  drive  four 
in-hand  ;  like  a  party  to  Richmond,  or  the  races,  and  do  not 
faint, at  the  sound  of  a  boxing  match  or  the  pedigree  of  a  hoi'se. 
Harvey  and  Crokely  have  introduced  me,  and  I  will  introduce 
you,  and  a  mighty  pleasant  time  you  will  have  of  it ;  therefore 
come  directly.  I've  no  more  to  say,  only  that  my  warming- 
pan  accepts  the  Chiltern  Hundreds  next  week,  therefore  your 
next  may  be  addressed  M.P.  The  only  comfort  of  the  House 
of  Commons  is,  that  you  may  sit  with  your  hat  on,  so  shall  go 
down  to  vote  for  all  the  great  questions,  provided  they  don't 
come  on  when  the  St.  Leger  is  being  run  for,  a  match  to  be 
fought,  or  when  I  am  encased  at  the  One  Tun. 


18  THE   OXOKIANS. 

Tell  Han7  Vaux  that  1  have  a  shake-down  and  a  seat  in  Ji 
tilbury  for  him  whenever  he  can  come  up  for  a  month,  but  he 
must  for^'et  his  Latin.  He  won't  be  sorry  to  Jiear  that  the  old 
parson  in  Wiltshire  has  had  onot))er  fit,  by  which  his  re- 
version to  the  living  is  worth  half  a  dozen  more  years'  purchase. 
So  good  bye.  Yours,  &.c. 

H.  Lascelles. 

Emily's  letter  was  still  in  a  different  strain,  though  one  of 
equal  delight  at  the  new  life  into  which  she  had  just  been  in- 
itiated ;  and  ran  as  follows  : 

EMILY  HAKTLEY  TO  SALLY  EMILY  HARTLEY. 

I  am  afraid  my  dearest  mama  will  begin  to  think  her  Emily 
neglectful,  for  having  passed  so  many  days  without  writing  : 
hut  really  I  should  be  afraid  you  would  scold  nie,  were  1  to 
enumerate  all  the  variety  of  engagements,  with  their  gayety, 
that  have  occupied  every  moment  of  my  days,  and  rendered 
me  too  much  fatiirued  to  devote  any  part  of  my  nights  to  any 
thing  else  but  sleep.  Yet  you  must  not  scold  neither,  for 
every  body  is  here  so  kind  to  me.  Lady  Orville  is  such  a 
charming  woman.  Lady  Sophia  such  a  delightful  companion, 
and  the  whole  family  so  empressc  to  procure  me  pleasure,  and 
to  do  honour  to  their  little  guest,  that  I  should  be  the  most 
ungrateful  puss  in  the  world,  did  I  not  show  myself  sensible 
of  their  kindness,  by  making  the  best  use  of  the  enjoyments 
they  cater  for  me. 

There  is  Clara  Eranklcy,  a  cousin  of  the  family  too :  she 
is  a  ward  of  liady  Orville's  ;  and  though  she  leads  a  retired 
life,  yet  she  makes  herself  very  agreeable,  and  seems  to  have 
conceived  a  real  friendship  for  me,  though  it  isnotof  so  warm 
a  character  as  that  of  Lady  Sophia. 

I  am  almost  afraid  to  tell  you  that  we  have  generally  been  to 
two  or  three  assemblies  of  a  night,  that  we  never  miss  an  opera, 
and  that  there  are  already  cards  to  convey  us  in  the  same 
career  through  the  whole  season.  Oh  dear,  oh  dear  !  it  is 
almost  enough  to  put  my  poor  little  head  in  a  whirl  :  yet  Lady 
Sophia  says  I  have  seen  nothing,  and  that  these  are  mere  do- 
mestic "  retinions^^  to  what  will  come  after  I  am  fairly  out  at 
a  party  of  their  own.  There  certainly  are  many  who  undergo 
twice  as  much,  and  who  assert  that  I  shall  soon  consider  it  as 
a  matter  of  course,  and  mind  it  no  more  than  they  do.  But 
I  am  sure  this  will  never  be  the  case.     I  feel  that  I  am  not 


THE    OXONIANS.  49 

formed  to  be  the  ornament  of  a  brilliant  society  like  that  in 
which  I  am  now  moving.  How  Lady  Orville  goes  through  so 
much  fatigue,  and  how  Lady  Sopliia  preserves  her  charming 
spirits  in  the  midst  of  it  all,  I  cannot  conceive.  For  my  own 
part,  I  must  Succumb,  and  have  positively  refused  two  assem- 
blies in  next  week,  on  which  nights  I  am  determined  to  be 
content  with  the  opera,  and  get  to  bed  early. 

I  wish,  though,  that  my  dear  mamma  could  wing  her  way, 
like  some  sylph  of  fairy  tale,  and  hear  all  the  civil  things  that 
are  said  to  her  little  Emily.  Lady  Orville  is  quite  delighted, 
she  says,  with  her  new  protegee  ;  Lady  Sophia  puff's  me,  as 
she  calls  it,  in  every  society  ;  and  Lord  Orville,  who  is  con- 
sidered one  of  the  finest  gentlemen  of  the  age,  pays  me  so 
many  delicate  attentions,  and  compliments  me  on  my  few  at- 
tainments, in  language  so  devoid  of  flattery,  that  I  really 
sometimes  do  begin  to  think  that  I  am  something,  and  some- 
body. 

But  they  shan't  make  me  vain,  nor  make  me  love  Hartley 
Grove,  and  its  quiet  shades,  the  less.  No,  no  :  my  heart  is 
still  there  ;  and  I  shall  still  exclaim  with  Cunningham  : 

My  native  vale,  my  native  vale, 

In  visions  and  in  dreams 
I  see  your  towers  and  trees,  and  hear 

The  music  of  your  streams. 

Of  Lady  Olivia  Tressel,  Lady  Orville's  eldest  daughter, 
we  see  but  little  ;  I  am  afraid  she  does  not  treat  her  mother 
quite  with  jthat  degree  of  filial  respect  which  Lady  Orville 
expects  ;  and  is  said  not  to  be  sufficiently  grateful  for  the  care 
with  which  her  mother  sought  for  and  procured  her  establish- 
ment. These  are,  however,  mere  "on  dits,"  though  it  is 
certain  that  they  very  seldom  meet,  excepting  in  public,  and 
that  Lady  Olivia  never  comes  to  Orville  House  except  on 
party  niijhts,  when  there  are  five  hundred  other  people.  But  l 
liear  Lady  Sophia  on  the  stairs  :  so  I  must  quickly  say  fare- 
well. 

Pray  tell  Mr.  Forrester  that  I  do  not  forget  his  grave  lec- 
tures amid  my  present  gayety.  Desire  Thomas  to  be  carefu  1 
of  my  pony,  and  the  gardener  not  to  let  my  favourite  flower? 
droop  for  the  want  of  their  mistress. 

Kiss  my  dear  papa  for  me,  and  believe  me,  my  dearest 
mamma. 

Your  affectionate  and  happy 

Emily. 

Vol.  L— 5  p 


50  THE   OXONIANS. 

Such  is  tlie  usual  buoyancy  of  spirit  with  which  short- 
sighted mortals  enter  existence.  But  how  soon  is  that  spirit 
broken  !  How  soon  do  we  find  the  fallacy  of  these  early  im- 
pressions I 

We  must  now  take  a  slight  view  of  apart  of  that  society 
into  which  our  dramatis  personae  have  been  initiated. 


CHAPTER  Vni. 

A  ROUT.  , 

Wide  pour'd  abroad,  behold  the  giddy  crew  ; 

See  how  they  dash  along  from  wall  to  wall  I 

At  every  door,  hark  !  how  they  thund'ring  call  I 

Good  Lord  I  what  can  this  giddy  rout  excite  ? 

Why,  on  each  other  with  fell  tooth  to  fall ; 

A  neighbour's  fortune,  fame,  or  peace  to  blight, 

And  make  new  tiresome  parties  for  the  coming  night. 

Thomson. 

"  Sir  Harry  Winslow's  carriage  stops  the  way.'" 
"  Lady  Winslow  coming  down." 
"  The  iMarchioness  of  Tourville's  carriage." 
"  Lady  Harriet  Buckley's  carriage." 
"  The  Marchioness  of  Tourville  coming  down." 
"Lady  Harriet  Buckley  coming  down" — were  the  sounds 
that  thundered  through  the  spacious  hall  and  splendid  staircase 
of  one  of  the  aristocratic  mansions  of  Cavendish-square  ;  while 
guest  after  guest,  elegantly  attired,  the  females  sparkling  with 
gold  and  jewels,  and  enveloped  in  shawls  of  cachemire  and 
cloaks  of  ermine,  glided    through    a    long  lane   of  liveried 
lackeys  to  their  carraiges,  without  casting  a  thought  upon  the 
crowd  of  houseless  wretches  who  pressed  round  the  door  with 
a  curiosity  to  see  these  better-fated  mortals,  which  even  poverty, 
starvation,  and  coldness  could  not  repress. 

The  words  '^  Delightftil  assembly  !"  "  Splendid  supper !" 
"  Your  arm,  Marquis  ?"  "  Tourville,  your  hand  ?"  "  Dutchess, 
here  is  your  cachemire;"  "Allow  me;"  and  all  the  ct  ceteras 
of  polite  attention,  mingled  with  the  cries  of  "Home,"  uttered 
by  the  sleepy  footmen  to  the  willing  coachmen,  who,  plying 
the  lash  to  their  cattle,  threaded  the  maze  of  the  still  numerous 


THE   OXONIANS.  51 

crowd  of  carriages  with  a  boldness  and  dexterity  almost  un- 
known to  any  but  to  an  English  coachman. 

Away  rolled  one  votary  of  fashion  after  another,  looking,  to 
the  wondering  eyes  of  the  gaping  crowd,  whom  even  the  ex- 
treme lateness  of  the  hour  could  not  drive  to  their  homes 
(perhaps  they  had  no  homes  to  go  to),  like  beings  of  a  dififer- 
ent  sphere  ;  and,  as  the  cold  and  careless  eye  of  these  pleasure- 
seekers  rested  for  a  moment  on  these  shivering  wretciies,  per- 
haps they  thought  themselves  really  of  a  different  mould,  and 
formed  of  difi'erent  materials  from  those  of  which  such  misera- 
ble-looking creatures  were  constituted.  And  yet — but  I  will 
not  moralize.  It  is.  not  the  province  of  an  author  to  become  a 
bore  till  his  second  volume  is  nearly  completed  ;  and  therefore 
I  refrain  from  any  observations  that  might  make  these  chosen 
of  the  world,  in  their  silk  gauzes,  diamond  tiaras,  golden  mus- 
lins, and  sparkling  jewels,  recollect  or  reflect  that  they  are 
made  of  the  same  clay  as  the  ragged  beggar,  who,  with  torn 
and  naked  feet,  and  squalid  skeleton  frame,  entreats  a  misera- 
ble alms  at  their  carriage  door. 

Fortune  in  man  has  this  small  difference  made, 
One  flaunts  in  rags — one  flutters  in  brocade. 

"  Mr.  Owen  Pursley's  carriage,"  was  bellowed  out  by  the 
stentorian  lungs  of  a  footman.  "  Ready,"  was  the  reply,  in  a 
voice  equally  loud  ;  and  a  coach  covered  with  arms  and  brass 
ornaments,  drawn  by  two  sleek  long-tailed  horses,  with  harness 
likewise  covered  with  brass  decorations,  and  driven  by  a  coach- 
man, the  colour  of  whose  coat  could  scarcely  be  distinguished 
for  the  profusion  of  lace  with  which  it  was  covered,  drove  up 
to  the  door. 

"  Mr.  Owen  Pursley  and  the  Miss  Pursleys  coming  down," 
was  uttered  by  the  servant  on  the  landing,  as  a  fat  and  rather 
sleepy-looking  man,  with  bushy  eyebrows,  deep  set  eyes,  a 
rubicund  nose,  and  a  ;vig  a  la  Brutus,  wrapped  up  in  an  opera 
pelisse  lined  with  fur,  came  slowly  down  the  stairs,  assisting 
himself  now  and  then  by  the  balustrade,  which  almost  trembled 
with  his  weight.  Behind  him  followed  Miss  Pursley,  and  Miss 
Rebecca  Pursley,  richly  dressed  in  the  extreme  of  the  last 
fashion,  each  hanging  on  the  arm  of  a  fashionable  exquisite  of 
the  first  water,  who  seemed  amazingly  assiduous  to  worm 
themselves  into  the  good  graces  of  the  daughters  of  the  rich 
financier.  Two  footmen,  with  a  quantity  of  lace  corresponding 
with  that  of  the  coachman,  stood  at  the  carriage  door.     The 


j«   nr  lU    t  iPi 


THE    OXONIANS. 


financier,  with  a  due  sense  of  liis  own  importance,  entered 
first,  and  occupied  the  whole  of  one  side  of  the  carriage,  care- 
fully placing  himself  with  his  face  to  the  horses.  The  daugh- 
ters tripped  lightly  in  after  their  rich  papa  ;  the  heads  of  the 
Obcorting  beaux  inclined  about  an  inch  and  a  half  out  of  the 
}»erpendicular,  and  the  tips  of  the  ladies  kid  gloves  were  kissed 
by  way  of  adieu,  when  Mr.  Ow,en  Pursley  drew  up  the  glass 
to  shut  out  the  fresh  air.  "  Home,"  cried  the  footman,  and 
away  whirled  the  voluptuous  equipage. 

"  Great  bore  I  but  d — d  rich,"  uttered  one,  as  he  mounted 
Ins  cabriolet. 

•'  Whoy,  ye-es,  a  twaddle  veritable,  but  quoite  a  millionaire, 
and  cursed  good  dinners,"  drawled  out  the  other,  as  he  placed 
fiis  foot  upon  the  carpetted  step  of  a  plain  but  elegant  vis-a-vis. 
A  loud  burstof  laughter  was  now  heard  issuing  from  a  party 
of  young  men  who  were  descending  the  staircase  together. 
Cries  of  "  Capital ;  capital,  by  Jove  ;"  "  Never  heard  any  thing 
so  good,"  were  repeated  and  addressed  to  a  young  man  who, 
as  he  was  the  centre,  so  he  seemed  the  life  and  soul  of  the 
parly  who  were  now  quitting  the  house. 

Cabriolets  and  the  few  remaining  carriages  made  their  way 
up  to  the  door,  and  were  one  by  one  entered  by  these  late 

'oungers.   "  Who  is  for  C d's  ?  His  supper  will  scarcely 

be  over  yet,  and  the  crowd  here  was  so  cursed  hungry  that  I 
could  not  impound  a  sandwich.  Langley,  will  you  go  ?"  ad- 
dressing the  wit  at  whose  sally  they  had  just  laughed  so  im- 
moderately. 

No,  thank  ye." 
•  Can  I  set  you  down,  Langley  ?" 

'  No,  thank  ye  ;"  and  had  the  light  of  the  lamp  then  glanced 
■»n  j.aneiey's  face,  it  would  have  shown  a  transient  blush,  as 
his  memory  reverted  to  the  home  at  which  the  speaker  wished 
to  set  him  down. 

''  Well,  Langley,  you  were  in  high  feather  to-day,  upon 
lionoi.  Don't  forget  you  dine  with  me  at  seven  to-morrow," 
said  one,  as  he  drove  off. 

"  Don't  forget  me  for  Thursday  at  eight,"  said  another,  and 
off  darted  his  spirited  horse. 

"  Nor  my  dinner,  Langley,  on  Friday,"  cried  a  third,  as  he 
drew  up  the  glasses  of  his  chariot. 

"•  And  mind,"  said  Lascelles,  whom  the  great  assembly  at 
»>rville  House  had  attracted  from  his  set,,  ♦'  mind  you  remem- 
lier  my  feed  on  Sunday,  where  we  expect  you  will  come  in 
your  best  spirits,  for  we  shall  have  some  jolly  dogs,  and  there 


THE   OXONIANS.  53 

are  no  d — d  parties  to  interrupt  a  jovial  evening  ;"  and  away 
drove  the  different  inviters  in  their  different  vehicles  to  their 
various  destinations  of  clubs,  mistresses,  and  h — lis,  leaving 
only  some  half-dozen  carriages  belonging  to  those  whose 
ecarte  tables  were  not  yet  broken  up,  or  whose  flirtations 
remained  unfinished.  The  forced  smile  passed  away  from 
Langley's  face  ;  the  last  laugh  which  he  gave  to  his  departing 
companions  almost  assumed  the  sound  of  a  convulsive  sob  ; 
external  excitation  was  past,  and  his  mind  turned  to  its  own 
interior  and  bitter  reflections,  as  he  wended  his  way  on  foot 
through  the  spacious  squares  to  an  humble  street  that  I  should 
be  ashamed  to  name  as  the  residence  of  any  one  who  was 
occasionally,  nay,  continually,  admitted,  if  not  courted,  in  so 
many  circles  of  the  first  fashion  ;  yet  in  this  street  lived  Lang- 
ley.  A  small  key  of  one  of  Bramah's  patent  locks,  procured 
him  entrance  to  the  humble  house  vvhich  formed  his  home  ; 
and  in  that  house  was  a  listening  ear  and  a  beating  heart,  that 
anxiously  waited  his  return,  and  to  whom  the  sound  of  the 
key  that  admitted  him  was  sweeter  than  the  most  celebrated 
air  of  the  most  celebrated  composer. 

"  He  is  here  1"  said  she,  and  her  heart  became  tranquil. 
"  He  is  returned!"  and  her  anxiety  ceased,  and  her  flurried 
pulse  beat  evenly.  Before  he  could  reach  the  second  floor, 
for  Langley  could  aflbrd  to  lodge  no  lower,  the  door  was 
opened  to  receive  him,  a  finger  on  the  lips,  and  a  sagacious 
look  towards  the  cradle,  told  him  that  their  child  slept,  and 
warned  him  to  silence. 

A  pang  shot  across  his  heart  as  Langley  contemplated  the 
humble  scene  before  him,  and  contrasted  it  with  the  splendour 
which  he  had  just  quitted  ;  and  something  like  a  feeling  of 
shame  came  across  him  as  he  thought  how  different  had  been 
the  occupations  of  himself  and  those  of  his  wife  (for  it  was  his 
wife,  reader)  on  that  evening.  His  hours  had  been  passed  in 
fashionable  society,  in  the  enjoyment  of  luxuries  to  which  his 
fortune  no  longer  entitled  him,  in  the  midst  of  gayeties  to 
which  his  own  wit  had  given  the  principal  zest.  Hers,  in  the 
performance  of  the  humblest  of  her  domestic  duties,  in  nursing 
their  child,  in  reflecting  upon  the  fallen  fortunes  of  her  hus- 
band, and  in  thinking  upon  him  in  his  absence. 

These  thoughts  wrung  an  involuntary  sigh  from  his  bosom  ; 
but  a  confiding  and  affectionate  kiss,  a  smile  of  welcome,  such 
as  nothing  but  the  affection  of  a  woman,  of  a  wife,  can  give, 
and  the  blush  of  pleasure  that  mantled  in  her  cheek  at  his  re- 
turn, tranquillized  his  feehngs. 

6* 


54  THE    OXONIAN*. 

Langley,  in  the  plenitude  of  prosperity,  had  been  at  Oxford, 
and  it  was  at  College,  that  fii-st  meeting  with  Lord  Orville, 
tlieir  friendship  had  continued,  if  that  kind  of  intercourse  which 
consist  in  associations  and  visiting  may  be  called  friendship. 

All  the  world  had  known  Langley  as  the  expectant  heir  of  a 
prmcely  fortune,  and  had  participated  in  the  elegancies  and 
splendour  of  his  hospitable  mansion.  All  the  world  knew  of 
the  wreck  of  his  hopes,  of  the  blight  of  his  early  prospects,  of 
Ms  present  poverty  ;  but  how  poor  he  was,  no  one  knew.  He 
.stil!  kept  up  his  subscription  to  his  club,  where  all  letters  were 
:uiuressed  to  him  ;  and  his  humble  home  was  therefore  a 
.secret,  as  well  as  his  marriage.  He  was  still  not  only  tolerated 
ill  the  society  in  which  he  had  been  born,  but  courted  for  the 
wit  with  which  he  could  entertain,  and  of  which  his  fallen  for- 
tunes had  not  deprived  him.  His  friends  were,  in  outward 
appearance,  still  the  same,  but  he  had  not  tried  them.  He 
V  as  known  to  be  poor,  but  he  had  never  yet  had  recourse  to 
(lie  purses  of  his  more  fortunate  companions  ;  his  poverty  had 
never  yet  rendered  him  troublesome  to  his  friends,  and  their 
friendship,  therefore,  appeared  to  be  undiminished. 

lianirley's  was  a  melancholy,  and,  I  fear,  not  an  uncommon 
gtor\ .  From  infancy  he  was  nursed  in  the  lap  of  luxury,  the 
f>et  of  a  doting  mother,  the  pride  of  an  affectionate,  father  ; 
his  natural  talents  had  been  cultivated  by  the  best  education 
w  Inch  the  country  could  afford  ;  his  boyhood  was  spent  at 
Kton,  the  commencement  of  his  manhood  was  passed  at  Ox- 
ford Possessed  of  unbounded  wealth,  his  father  made  him  so 
Tiberal  an  allowance  that  his  purse  was  always  at  the  service 
of  hii  companions,  and  Langley  was  voted  the  best  fellow  in 
the  world.  His  wit  and  conversational  talents  rendered  his 
society  an  acquisition,  and  his  company  was  accordingly 
courted  by  young  men  of  the  higiiest  rank,  till  no  college-feast 
was  the  thing  unless  Langley  was  one  of  the  party. 

D\iring  a  shooting  excursion,  the  first  year  after  his  departure 
from  Oxford,  accident  introduced  him  to  Miss  Fanny  Palmer, 
the  daughter  of  a  man  with  whom  his  father  liad  quarrelled 
early  in  life.  A  mutual  attachment  was  the  consequence  of 
their  meeting.  During  this  period,  the  failure  of  some  great 
Indian  establishment  ruined  IMr.  Palmer,  whose  constitution 
sunk  under  the  shock,  and  he  died,  leaving  his  daughter  Fanny 
pcnnyless  and  friendless,  with  no  hope  of  protection,  excepting 
from  a  maternal  uncle,  who  was  in  India,  and  who  had  never 
forgiven  his  sister  for  connecting  herself  with  a  man  engaged 
m  commerce. 


THE  OXONIANS.  56 

The  friendless  situation  of  Fanny  only  served  to  increase 
the  passion  of  Langley ;  and  he  generously  though  imprudently 
determined  to  rescue  her  from  her  present  friendless  position 
by  making  her  his  wife.  Unhappily,  he  determined  upon, this 
step  without  the  consent  of  his  father.  Unprotected  and  un- 
advised, she  consented  to  a  private  marriage,  and  became  the 
wife  of  the  man  whom  her  heart  preferred  beyond  all  others. 

The  generous  allowance  of  Langley's  father  prevented  all 
difficulties  of  supplying  his  wife's  very  moderate  desires.  Her 
only  want  was  his  society,  of  which,  situated  as  they  were,  she 
could  of  course  enjoy  very  little ;  and  it  was  this,  more  than 
any  other  advantage  which  she  might  derive  from  its  disclo- 
sure, that  made  her  urge  the  publication  of  their  marriage,  now- 
rendered  more  necessary  by  the  certainty  of  her  speedy  con- 
finement. His  mother's  death  had  prevented  Langley  making 
this  disclosure  so  soon  as  he  had  at  first  intended. 

Determined  at  length  at  all  events  to  unfold  the  truth,  he 
was  diligently  looking  out  for  a  favourable  opportunity,  when 
his  father  was  seized  with  apoplexy,  and,  after  hngering  a  few 
days,  expired  without  recovering  his  senses,  or  giving  any  signs 
of  recognition. 

On  the  death  of  the  old  gentleman,  every  body  treated  Lang- 
ley  as  the  heir  to  his  wealth,  while  dihgent  search  was  made 
among  his  papers  for  a  will.  When  the  fact  of  his  having  died 
intestate  became  known,  the  steward,  who  had  acted  as  gene- 
ral agent  for  the  late  Mr.  Langley,  to  the  surprise  of  every 
body,  put  his  seal  upon  the  diiierent  papers,  and  peremptorily 
ordered  that  nothing  should  be  disturbed  till  the  heir,  or  his 
legitimate  agent,  should  inspect  them.  Langley  was  himself 
too  much  absorbed  in  the  event,  to  know  of  this  till  the  funeral 
was  over ;  when  Mr.  Turner,  whom  he  could  never  bear,  from 
the  cringing  hypocrisy  with  which  he  had  always  treated  his 
father,  demanded  an  interview.  On  Langley's  declining  to  see 
him,  Turner  insisted,  and  at  length  almost  forcing  himself  into 
the  library,  he  stood  before  his  young  master,  without  any  of 
that  cringing  servility  which  had  always  hitherto  distinguished 
him  in  his  intercourse  both  with  his  old  master  and  his  son. 

Langley,  surprised  at  the  unwelcome  intrusion,  demanded 
the  reason  for  his  thus  insisting  upon  an  interview. 

"  I  wish  to  know,  sir,"  replied  Turner,  "  whether  you  are 
aware  of  any  will  left  by  the  late  Mr.  Langley." 

"  You,  I  understand.  Turner,  have  searched  all  my  father's 
papers,  and  have  found  none,"  replied  Langley. 

"  I  am  sorry  for  it,"  said  Turner,  while  a  mahcious  glance 


56  THE   0X0MAN3. 

interpreted  his  protended  sorrow  into  triumph  ;  "  for  I  much 
tear  that  you  will  have  little  to  expect  from  his  heir  at  law." 

''  Heir  at  law  !  Why  the  man  is  mad,''  exclaimed  Langley  ; 
and,  for  the  moment,  he  thought  as  he  said. 

"  Not  so  mad  as  you  may  imagine,  sir ;  but  pray  sit  down, 
and  tranquillize  yourself;  all  may  yet  be  well,  if  you  will  act 
wisely,"  said  Turner,  as  he  drew  a  chair  familiarly,  and  seated 
himself,  "  and  if  you  will  follow  my  advice — " 

"  When  it  is  requisite,  sir,  it  will  be  souglit,"  said  Langley, 
who  still  continued  standing  ;  '■  at  present,  I  have  no  need  of 
it,  and  would  be  left  to  mysclt'." 

"■  More  need  of  it,  jMr.  George,  than  you  may  imagine," 
continued  the  wily  steward,  in  the  same  familiar  tone. 

"  Once  for  all,  Turner,  I  am  in  no  mood  for  business  now, 
and  you  must  be  either  drunk  or  mad  to  force  it  upon  me  at 
this  moment,"  reiterated  Langley. 

"  I  am  neither  drunk  nor  mad,  Mr.  George  ;  but,  in  spite 
of  the  galling  pride  with  which  you  have  ever  treated  me,  am 
come  now  to  olfer  to  do  you  a  service  ;  to  save  you  from  a 
perilous  position." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  what  peril  can  threaten  me  ?" 

"  Your  father's  relations" 

Langley  interrupted  him,  "  Do  not  imagine,  Mr.  Turner,  that 
I  have  forgotten  them.  One  of  my  first  duties  will  be,  and  in 
that,  it  is  true  you  may  assist  mc  ;  to  seek  them  out,  and 
make  such  provision  for  them  out  of  my  father's  wealth,  as  he 
himself  would  have  done,  had  he  not  have  been  cut  off  so  sud- 
deidy." 

"  Think  of  yourself,  Mr.  George,  rather  than  of  them,"  said 
'J'urner ;  "  It  is  time  enough  to  think  of  them  when  you  are 
yourself  secure." 

"  Secure !" 

"  Aye,  Mr.  George,  secure  ;  and  know  that  your  security 
depends  upon  me  ;"  and  this  Turner  repeated  twice,  with  a 
sinister  expression  of  countenance,  which  denoted  tiie  delight 
he  anticipated  in  the  effect  of  the  intelligence  he  was  about 
to  communicate. 

'■'  My  security  depend  u^on  you  !  upon  you  !  Mr.  Turner. 
I  do  not  understand  you  ;  you  bewilder  me.  Pray  explain 
yourself  more  clearly ;  and  if  you  have  anything  of  import- 
ance to  communicate,  let  it  be  presently  done,"  said  Langley, 
with  as  much  temper  as  the  insolent  air  of  the  other  would 
allow  him  to  command. 

"  Not  so  fast,  Mr.  George,  not  so  fast ;  first  sign  these  two 


THE    OXONIANS.  57 

papers,  and  I  am  silenced  for  ever,  and  the  secret  shall  remain 
buried  in  my  own  breast," 

"  What  secret  ?"  asked  Langley,  as  he  mechanically  cast 
his  eyes  over  the  two  papers  ;  the  one  of  which  was  a  full  rati- 
fication of  Turner's  accounts  up  to  that  period  ;  and  the  other 
a  bond  for  ten  thousand  pounds. 

"  A  secret  which  involves  your  future  fate,"  said  Turner. 
By  this  time  Langley  had  perused  the  two  papers,  and  turn- 
ing calmly  round  to  the  steward,  who  was  still  seated,  he 
quietly  said,  "  Mr.  Turner,  the  first  of  these  papers  only  serves 
to  confirm  me  in  what  you  know  I  have  long  suspected  ; 
namely,  that  you  have  not  been  the  honest  agent  to  my  father 
which  he  supposed  you  to  be  ;  for  the  second,  I  am  at  a  loss 
to  know  the  grounds  on  which  you  can  make  so  inordinate  a 
demand. — Be  silent  for  a  kw  moments ;  and  now,  Mr.  Turner, 
once  for  all,  since  you  have  forced  me  into  business, for  which 
I  am  yet  unfit,  as  well  as  unprepared,  I  request  you  will  make 
up  your  accounts  without  delay,  that  I  may  judge  from  them 
whether  my  suspicions  are  correct ;  and  that  I  may  do  you 
justice,  if  they  should  prove  erroneous." 

"  Mr.  George,  Mr.  George,  don't  provoke  me  ;  you  know 
not  what  you  do.  I  am  in  possession  of  a  secret,  upon  which 
your  whole  welfare  depends  ;  and,  by  signing  these  papers, 
you  will  bury  the  secret  for  ever  in  my  breast,"  said  the 
steward. 

"What  is  your  secret?"  firmly  asked  Langley  ;  "what  is 
your  secret  ?" 

The  steward  looked  cautiously  round  ;  opened  the  door,  to 
see  that  no  one  was  listening,  and  then  closing  it  carefully,  and 
approaching  Langley,  he  said,  in  a  hoarse  loud  whisper,  "You 
are  an  illegitimate  child  ;  you  have  no  claim  to  your  father's 
fortune  ;  the  hneal  heir  is  a  pettifogging  attorney  ;  and  a  word 
from  me  puts  him  into  possession  of  this  mansion  and  your 
father's  estates,  and  sends  you  forth  a  houseless  and  a  penny- 
less  beggar." 

The  first  sentence  of  this  tirade  came  like  a  thunderbolt 
upon  Langley ;  he  heard  no  other  part  of  the  steward's  speech ; 
all  his  faculties  seemed  absorbed  in  the  one  great  affront  which 
its  commencement  put  upon  himself  and  his  parents.  Its 
consequences  never  occurred  to  him. 

"  Villain  !"  he  exclaimed  ;  and  with  his  right  hand  he  seized 
the  steward  by  the  throat ;  "  'Tis  a  lie  !  an  infernal  lie  !  Ob, 
mother  !  Oh,  mother  I  and  am  I  doomed  to  hear  your  beloved 
name  traduced,  and  by  the  viper  which  ray  father  nourished 


53  THE  OXONIANS. 

into  existence.    Villuin,  unsay  your  words,  or  by  heavens'' 

here  his  feelings  overcame  him,  his  hand  relaxed  its  hold,  and 
the  trembling  steward,  escaping  from  his  grasp,  hurried  out  of 
the  room,  muttering  something,  in  which  '•  madman'^'  and 
"bastard"  were  the  only  words  that  struck  upon  his  ear. 

Langley's  faculties  were  stunned  ;  he  remembered  some 
history  of  his  father  having  eloped  with  his  mother,  and  of  their 
having  been  subsequently  forgiven.  Could  it  be  possible  ? 
had  the  steward  spoken  truth  ?  he  would  not,  could  not,  be- 
lieve it. 

In  case  he  should  have  died  before  his  father,  he  had  effected 
an  insurance  on  his  life  in  favour  of  his  wife  ;  and  to  do  this 
he  remembered  having  obtained  a  certificate  of  his  birth.  That 
of  his  father's  marriage  had  been  discovered  in  the  general 
search  after  the  will.  He  hastened  to  the  drawer  which  con- 
tained these  papers,  compared  their  dates,  and  to  his  horror 
discovered  that  the  certificate  of  the  marriage  was  dated  one 
month  later  than  that  of  his  birth. 

This  was,  indeed,  a  confirmation  of  the  truth  of  the  steward's 
assertion.  Nor  was  he  long  before  he  felt  the  activity  of  this 
man's  revenge.  A  few  days  brought  him  accompanied  by  the 
heir  at  law.  The  facts  were  too  stubborn,  even  for  the  law- 
yers to  advise  his  contesting  the  claim  which  was  set  up  to 
his  father's  estate  ;  but  this  his  respect  for  the  name  of  his 
mother  would  have  prevented,  unless  it  was  certain  of  clearing 
her  fame  from  the  attainder.  There  was  no  proof  to  be  ob- 
tained of  any  previous  marriage  ;  although  some  old  nurse  said 
she  tliought  that  a  secret  union  must  have  taken  place.  Adver- 
tisement after  advertisement  was  inserted,  offering  large  rewards 
for  any  information  that  could  elucidate  the  mystery,  w'ithout 
producing  any  effect.  In  the  mean  time,  the  heir  at  law,  aided 
by  the  steward,  took  such  efl'ectual  measures  to  make  good  his 
claim,  that  he  was  soon  in  possession  of  all  that  wealth  to  which 
Langley  thought  himself  the  legitimate  heir  ;  and  he  found 
himself  the  master  only  of  a  small  pittance,  which  his  mother 
had  left  him  as  a  last  instance  of  her  affection  ;  little  thinking 
of  the  immense  consequence  this  trifle  was  to  become  to  her 
beloved  son.  The  heir  at  law  entered  upon  the  enjoyment  of 
his  immense  fortune  without  casting  a  thought  upon  the  unfor- 
tunate Langley  ;  or,  if  he  did  think  of  him,  it  was  only  with 
that  vulgar  triumph  which  a  low  mind  enjoys  over  its  superior 
m  intellect  and  ac(juirement.  One  thing  he  did,  which,  while 
it  displayed  his  own  meanness,  did  poetical  justice  on  the  ste- 
ward.    With  his  knowledge  of  attorneyship,  we  will  not  call 


THE   OXONIANS.  59 

it  law,  he  had  contrived  by  some  quibble  to  invalidate  the  bond 
for  ten  thousand  pounds  ;  and  leaving  Turner  his  ill-gotten 
gains,  dismissed  him  from  his  service  without  the  promised  re- 
ward. 

Langley  lost  the  severity  of  his  disappointment  in  the  bosom 
of  his  v/ife,  who  bore  it  with  a  fortitude  which  nothing  but  af- 
fection can  bestow.  Her  husband  was  all  to  her,  and  though 
mortified  at  the  necessity  for  the  concealment  of  their  mar- 
riage, which  Langley  still  urged,  until  he  had  obtained  some 
employment  that  would  enable  them  to  appear  with  respecta- 
bility, she  acquiesced  without  a  murmur. 

However  modestly  or  meritoriously  he  may  have  used  pros- 
perity, the  man  who  suddenly  meets  a  reverse  is  sure  to  find 
many  who  rejoice  in  his  fall ;  why,  we  will  not  pretend  to  say ; 
perhaps  it  is  human  nature,  and  we  are  sorry  for  it. 

Langley  was,  however,  so  much  liked  that  he  was  generally 
pitied  ;  and  his  fate  was  the  more  lamented,  as  it  was  well 
known  that  the  man  who  had  come  into  possession  of  his  for- 
tune, was  one  not  at  all  likely  to  give  the  dinners,  and  keep 
the  hospitable  house  that  Langley  would  have  done.  This  was 
therefore  a  fortune  lost  to  the  eating  public,  or  diners-out  at 
large,  to  be  centred  in  one  individual. 

If  words  and  professions  could  give  consolation,  Langley 
would  have  been  amply  consoled.  Having  a  buoyant  spirit, 
however,  it  rose  above  his  fortune ;  he  had  talents,  and  he  de- 
termined to  employ  them  ;  a  large  and  powerful  connexion, 
and  he  resolved  to  avail  himself  of  it.  Alas !  how  little  did  he 
think  that  those,  so  profuse  of  their  offers  of  service  when  he 
did  not  want  it,  would  be  among  the  first  to  refuse  their  assist- 
ance now  that  he  required  it.  Both  himself  and  his  wife  felt 
the  necessity  for  his  keeping  up  his  standing  in  the  society  in 
which  he  had  been  used  to  move  ;  as  this  seemed  to  be  the 
only  chance  of  getting,  through  the  influence  of  friends,  an  ap- 
pointment of  some  sort  or  other ;  for  the  education  afforded 
by  Eton  and  Oxford  had  rather  unfitted,  than  fitted  him,  for 
the  real  business  of  life. 

Should  any  parent  read  this  who  has  placed  his  child  in  the 
predicament  of  Langley,  let  him  read  Dr.  Kitchener's  essay 
on  the  pleasure  of  making  a  will,  and  reflect  upon  the  injustice 
of  dying  without  one. 


60  THE    OXONIANS. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

EEMANETS. 

Tho'  daylight  thro'  the  window  breaking, 

Proclaims  the  busy  world  awaking  ; 

Lovers  and  gamesters  still  will  stay, 

To  cut  and  shuffle — flirt  and  play — 

Another  sigh — another  deal — 

Proclaim  the  pleasures  that  they  feel, — The  Rout. 

While  Langley  sought  his  humble  abode,  and  in  the  en- 
dearing caresses  of  his  wife  found  some  compensation  for  the 
ills  of  fortune,  a  scene  of  a  very  difterent  description  was 
passing  in  the  drawing-rooms  he  had  just  quitted 

Guest  after  guest  had  retired  ;  the  major-domo  had  dis- 
missed the  musicians  ;  the  servants  were  lounging  about  over- 
come with  fatigue  ;  the  younger  inmates  of  the  mansion,  with 
the  few  persons  still  remaining,  were  talking  over  the  occur- 
rences of  the  evening,  or  reclining  upon  the  no  longer  crowded 
sofas  of  the  saloon  finishing  their  flirtations  ;  while  in  an  inner 
drawing-room,  there  still  sat  one  parti  quarre^  engaged  at 
ecart^  ;  your  gamblers  and  flirtcrs  are  generally  the  reman ets 
of  an  assembly. 

This  party  consisted  of  the  mistress  of  the  mansion.  Lady 
Orvilie,  celebrated,  as  we  have  seen,  alike  for  her  talent,  her 
beauty,  her  dissipation,  and  her  extravagance  ;  of  Sir  Henry 
Warrington,  notorious  only  for  the  largeness  of  his  fortune, 
and  for  the  selfish  and  sensual  pursuits  in  which  it  was  e.\- 
pended  ;  of  old  Lord  Lexington,  who,  passing  every  day  in 
bed  and  every  night  at  the  card  table,  was  a  determined 
gambler,  without  experiencing  the  excitement  usually  at- 
tendant upon  the  character ;  since  playing  the  same  game  and 
the  same  stakes  every  night,  the  variableness  of  fortune  had 
never  atfected  him.  The  pursuit  which  he  followed  at  first 
for  amusement,  he  continued  from  habit,  and  at  the  age  of 
seventy  was  shuffling  to  the  grave  with  the  ace  of  trumps  in 
his  hand.  The  fourth,  who  completed  the  party  was  the  young 
and  lovely  Mrs.  Woodville,  who  both  before  and  since  her 
marriage,  which  had  now  occurred  nearly  two  years,  had  been 


THE   OXONIANS.  61 

the  idol  of  all  who  knew  her.  Young,  artless,  and  inexpe- 
rienced, she  had  speedily  attracted  the  attention  and  won  the 
heart  of  the  elegant  and  honourable  Henry  Woodville,  for 
whom  many  a  spinster  had  sighed,  and  for  whom  many  a 
dowager  had  cast  her  nets.  He  had  been  notorious  as  a  man 
of  gallantry,  and  his  marriage  and  appropriation  to  one  woman 
exclusively  was  considered  a  public  loss,  and  treated  by  the 
women  in  general  as  a  crime  against  their  sex  as  a  body. 

Attracted  by  his  elegant  manners ;  dazzled  by  the  admira- 
tion he  excited,  and  the  position  he  occupied  in  society;  she 
mistook  admiration  for  affection  ;  and  in  wedding  the  honour- 
able Mr.  Woodville,  entailed  upon  herself  the  envy  and  hatred 
of  many  of  her  sex,  which  was  not  allayed  by  seeing  her  at 
twenty-one  at  the  head  of  a  splendid  establishment,  giving  mag- 
nificent parties  ;  outvying  her  superiors  in  rank,  in  the  style  and 
splendour  of  her  equipages,  and  in  the  number  of  her  servants. 

When  Louisa  first  came  out,  she  eclipsed  all  her  competitors 
by  her  beauty  and  talents.  Before  she  had  passed  through  one 
season,  the  coronets  of  two  earls  had  been  laid  at  her  feet  and 
refused  ;  and  report  spoke  pretty  confidently  that  a  ducal  tiara 
had  shared  the  same  fate.  But  Louisa  was  not  a  woman  to 
marry,  unless  she  loved  ;  or,  at  any  rate,  unless  she  thought 
she  loved  ;  she  therefore  resisted  all  the  entreaties,  com- 
mands, and  anger  of  her  friends,  and  determined  to  follow 
jier  own  inclinations  in  the  choice  of  a  companion  for 
life.  The  honourable  Henry  Woodville  was  at  this  period 
in  the  zenith  of  his  attraction.  A  character  for  gallantry,  both 
in  the  field  as  well  as  in  society,  had  given  him  an  cclat,  which 
iias  unfortunately  but  too  much  sway  with  the  young  and  weak 
of  the  other  sex.  To  this  he  united  much  pleasant  conversa- 
tion, had  seen  a  great  deal  of  the  world,  and  could  tell  what 
he  had  seen  well.  He  could  imitate,  if  he  could  not  feel,  pas- 
sion. He  was  still,  however,  at  the  bottom,  a  very  selfish 
person ;  and  the  continual  habit  of  self-indulgence  had  ren- 
<Jered  this  egotism  of  feeling  so  permanent  as  to  become  almost 
a  natural  characteristic.  Attracted  by  the  beauty  of  Louisa 
Woodville,  and  dazzled  by  the  idea  of  success  where  coronets 
Jiad  failed,  he  made  his  proposals,  was  accepted,  and  bore  his 
'beautiful  prize  away  from  all  his  envying  competitors. 

Perhaps  there  was  none  among  her  numerous  acquaintance 
who  hated  her  more  for  this  match  than  did  the  Countess  of 
Orville  ;  and  yet  by  none  was  the  bride  received  on  her  entree 
into  the  world  as  a  matron,  with  sweeter  smiles  or  softer  words 
of  welcome.     Whence  this  hatred  arose,  fi^r  it  was  hatred*  it 

Vol.  I.— 6 


62  THE   OXONIANS. 

is  difficult  to  say;  but  there  were  rumours  of  more  than  a 
common  intimacy  between  the  countess  and  Woodville ; 
whispers  of  a  liaison,  either  in  fact  or  contemplation,  which 
had  been  broken  off  by  his  sudden  attachment  for  Louisa. 
As,  during  his  friendship  for  the  countess,  he  had  been  tempo- 
rarily attracted  by  about  twenty  other  beauties  whose  influence 
had  speedily  passed  away,  she  hoped  perhaps  that  this  might 
do  the  same,  and  was  deeply  mortified  when  she  was  informed 
by  report  that  he  had  actually  made  proposals  and  been  ac- 
cepted ;  and  enraged  beyond  measure  when  the  truth  of  this 
report  was  confirmed  by  himself. 

She  received  the  confirmation,  however,  without  any  change 
of  countenance,  except  a  shght  coniprossion  of  the  lip,  and 
with  a  tone,  the  bitterness  of  which  could  only  be  discovered 
by  a  very  clo.?e  observer,  wished  him  every  happiness.  This 
word  was  uttered  with  peculiar  emphasis,  arid  a  convulsive 
pressure  of  the  hand  accompanied  her  command  to  quit  her 
and  attend  to  bis  "  bkii>e  ;"  the  latter  word  again  emphasized 
in  the  same  manner. 

Woodville  was  glad  to  have  this  interview  past ;  and, 
although  he  had  rather  that  his  wife  should  not  have  kept  up 
such  an  intimate  acquaintance  with  Lady  Orville,  yet,  situated 
as  she  was  in  society,  he  felt  he  could  not  break  off  the  ac- 
quaintance without  an  eclat  that  would  have  done  neither  of 
tbem  any  good  ;  and  the  carelessness  which  quickly  succeeded 
his  marriage  made  him  less  solicitous  upon  this  subject  than 
he  otherwise  would  have  been. 

From  the  time  of  iVlrs.  Woodville's  marriage,  though  not 
particularly  intimate  before,  Lady  Orville  had  courted  her  so- 
ciety, made  her  quite  une  amie  de  la  maison^  and  got  up  parties 
expressly  for  her ;  using  at  the  same  time  every  means  in  her 
power  to  detach  her  from  her  home  ;  means  which  the  in- 
creasing carelessness  of  Woodville,  who  left  his  wife  too  much 
to  her  own  resources,  rendered  doubly  effective. 

An  attractive  wife,  neglected  by  her  husband,  is  not  long  in 
modern  society  without  having  in  her  train  a  certain  set  of 
danglers,  who,  without  daring  to  hope  for  success,  are  willing 
to  give  the  world  an  idea  that  they  have  a  chance  of  it. 
Among  these,  there  are  some  with  sufficient  attractions,  both 
of  person  and  talent,  to  muke  any  husband  tremble  for  the  re- 
sult of  their  particular  attentions ;  and  it  seemed  to  be  the 
purpose  of  Lady  Orville  to  collect  the  society  of  these  men 
whenever  Mrs.  Woodville  was  her  guest.  She  soon,  how- 
ever, discovered  that  this  lady  had  a  mind  too  pure  fo  admit  a 


THE  OXONIAN9.  Gd 

thought  contrary  to  propriety,  and  that  her  heart  was  not  to  be 
won  by  the  common  attentions  of  the  men  by  whom  she  was 
surrounded  ;  still  she  succeeded  in  her  wish  to  create  a  mistrust 
in  the  rnind  of  her  husband ;  and  so  far  her  purpose  was  ac- 
complished. 

Such  a  mind  and  heart  as  Mrs  Woodville  possessed,  could 
not  exist  without  excitement  of  some  sort ;  she  was  disap- 
pointed where  she  looked  for  happiness  ;  she  had  seen  high 
play  at  Lady  Orville's,  had  become  interested  as  a  spectator, 
ventured  her  little  bets  of  rings,  gloves,  fcc,  upon  the  event 
of  a  game,  and  was  at  length  induced  to  play  herself.  Cards 
adopted  as  an  excitement  are  very  different  things  to  cards 
adopted  merely  for  amusement.  Mrs.  Woodville  gradually 
began  to  find  in  them  a  stimulus  that  weaned  her  from  the 
contemplation  of  her  blighted  hopes  of  happiness  in  other 
quarters  ;  aud  as  opium  eaters  are  obliged  to  increase  the 
quantity  to  keep  up  the  same  effects,  so  was  Mrs.  Woodville 
compelled  to  increase  her  stakes  to  keep  up  the  excitement 
she  experienced  at  play,  till  she  was  fast  degenerating  into  a 
female  gamester. 

Among  the  danglers  who  had  been  attracted  by  her  peculiar 
position,  and  whose  attention  had  been  encouraged  by  Lady 
Orville,  was  Sir  Henry  Warrington,  a  baronet  of  about  thirty- 
five.  Upon  this  man's  heart,  if  heart  that  could  be  called 
which  had  not  one  generous  propensity,  and  every  feeling  of 
which  was  centred  in  self  and  sensual  gratification,  the  charms 
of  Mrs.  Woodville  had  made  a  strong  impression.  He  had 
never  felt  so  much  for  any  other  woman  ;  and  founding  his 
hopes  upon  the  negligence  with  which  she  was  so  evidently 
treated  by  her  husband,  he  determined  to  attempt  the  con- 
quest. 

To  this  determination  he  was  led  by  the  covert  hints  of 
Lady  Orville,  who  took  every  opportunity  of  giving  little  histo- 
riettes  of  Woodville's  neglect  and  infidelities,  and  of  pitying 
her  poor  friend  ;  while  to  Mrs.  Woodville  herself,  she  would 
lament  that  such  a  heart  and  mind  had  not  met  with  one  capa- 
ble of  appreciating  her  feelings  and  her  merits. 

This  was,  however,  very  delicate  ground  with  such  a  mind  as 
that  of  Mrs.  Woodville,  who,  in  spite  of  all  her  follies,  and  o{ 
her  husband's  neglect,  determined  to  preserve,  in  appearance 
at  least,  that  respect  for  him  which  she  had  lost  in  reality. 

Lady  Orville,  however,  knew  her  sex's  nature  well,  aud  by 
degrees  wormed  herself  so  much  into  the  confidence  of  Mrs. 
Woodville,  who  was  perhaps  only  too  glad  to  find  some  crea- 


G4  TnE  oxoMAJsa. 

ture  that  would  sympathize  with  her,  that  her  husband's  treat- 
ment was  no  longer  a  secret  between  them. 

From  the  period  of  the  commencement  of  this  confidence 
they  were  nearly  inseparable,  and  Lady  Orville  contrived,  as 
though  by  mere  accident,  that  Sir  Henry  Warrington  should 
always  be  of  their  parties ;  more  particularly  those  of  which 
play  was  the  object.  The  countess  had  early  discovered  the 
ease  with  which  Mrs.  Woodville  lent  herself  to  an  occupation 
that  created  so  much  excitement ;  and  greatly  indebted  as  she 
was  herself  to  the  resources  of  the  gaming-table,  she  not  only 
found  a  convenience  in  meeting  with  an  inexperienced  player 
possessed  of  such  liberal  means  as  Mrs.  Woodville,  but  hinted 
to  the  baronet,  himself  one  of  the  first  players  in  Europe,  that 
this  predilection  might  perhaps  be  rendered  subservient  to  his 
unworthy  purposes. 

Nightly,  as  the  excitement  passed  away,  did  Mrs.  Woodville 
tremble  at  the  extent  of  her  lo.sses  ;  yet  nightly  did  she  again 
yield  to  the  temptress,  who  lured  her  on  and  on  with  the  hope 
of  recovering  them,  before  there  became  any  necessity  for  ex- 
plaining them  to  Mr.  Woodville. 

On  the  night  in  question  she  had  been  engaged  with  the 
party  described,  from  an  early  period  of  the  evening,  in  the 
small  drawing-room  of  Orville  House.  A  more  than  usual 
run  of  ill-luck  had  attended  her  efforts  to  redeem  a  part  of  her 
losses,  to  which  she  had  this  night  added  so  considerably,  that 
she  continued,  in  recklessness  and  despair,  to  play  for  larger 
and  larger  stakes.  To  win  small  ones  was  now  of  no  use  to 
her ;  they  could  not  redeem  the  sums  she  had  lust ;  and  she 
grasped  eagerly  at  a  proposition  made  by  Lady  ( /rville  that 
she  and  Sir  Henry  Warrington  should  give  her  a  chance  of  re- 
venge, by  playing  one  game  for  a  stake  nearly  equal  to  her 
whole  losses  of  the  night. 

To  Sir  Henry  Warrington,  who  guessed  the  sinister  motive 
of  the  countess,  and  who  was  conscious  of  the  excellence  of 
her  play,  as  well  as  of  his  own  ;  the  proposition  was  equally 
acceptable.  As  to  Lord  Lexington,  the  automaton  chess 
player  was  not  more  insensible  to  the  amount  of  the  stakes 
than  he  was.  He  took  his  pinch  of  snuff"  during  the  shuffling 
of  the  cards,  with  his  usual  nonchalance.  A  glance  of  con- 
cealed triumph  shot  from  the  black  eyes  of  the  countess,  while  a 
smile,  such  as  few  men  wear,  played  on  the  lips  of  the  Baronet. 
Neither  of  the  latter,  however,  dared  to  look  at  Mrs.  Woodville  ; 
and  it  was  well  for  her  that  the  table  was  no  longer  surrounded, 
as  in  the  former  part  of  the  evening,  by  a  crowd  of  spectators, 


THE   OXOIflAPfSr.  65 

who  had,  naturally  enough,  watched  that  game  which  the  high 
play  rendered  the  most  interesting.  She  sat  with  her  eyes 
fixed  so  steadfastly,  that  the  cards  seemed  to  have  been  en- 
dowed with  that  property  of  the  rattlesnake,  which  is  said  to 
fascinate  the  gaze  of  its  intended  victim.  Her  face  was  pale, 
her  cheek  sunk,  her  lips  compressed,  her  eyes  half  closed,  as 
though  she  was  fearful  that  too  much  miglit  be  read  in  them. 
Every  power  of  muscle  was  put  in  requisition  to  prevent  that 
convulsive  motion  which  is  the  general  result  of  extreme  agi- 
tation. Her  dark  locks  were  shaken  back,  displaying  a  brow, 
once  lovely  and  open,  but  now  crowded  with  care  and  anxiety. 

The  first  deal  presented  her  with  cards  so  favourable  that  a 
sudden  gleam  of  sunshine  passed  over  her  features,  and  dis- 
pelled for  a  moment  the  darkness  that  had  gathered  there.  A 
start  of  surprise  and  vexation  betrayed  Lady  Orville's  feelings 
at  the  result  of  this  deal,  which  was  only  observed  by  Sir 
Henry ;  and  noticed  by  him  with  a  hasty  glance  of  dissatisfac- 
tion. In  a  moment,  however,  her  presence  of  mind  was  re- 
covered, and  all  was  smooth  again. 

To  the  evident  surprise  of  two  of  the  party,  the  game  ran 
pretty  equally  till  the  deal  came  by  which  it  must  be  decided. 
There  was  a  slight  appearance  of  uneasiness  in  the  counte- 
nances of  Lady  Orville  and  the  baronet ;  and,  to  a  close  ob- 
server, much  more  real  feeling  in  the  event,  than  they  would 
permit  their  countenances  to  display.  Lexington's  face  was 
immoveable  ;  but  Mrs.  VVoodville  was  for  once  too  anxious 
even  to  attempt  the  concealment  of  her  anxiety.  She  awaited 
the  deal  with  a  breathless  impatience,  and  snatched  at  her 
cards  with  a  nervous  trepidation,  that  betrayed  how  much  she 
hoped  and  dreaded  from  the  result.  Who  that  had  seen  the 
gay,  the  careless,  and  animated  Louisa  Carlton,  could  at  this 
moment  have  recognised  the  same  being  in  tiie  pale,  anxious., 
and  breathless  Mrs.  VVoodville ;  still  lovely,  but  oh,  how 
changed  in  her  lovehness !  Who  would  ever  have  thought 
that  her  generous  soul  could  have  set  its  happiness  on  the 
issue  of  a  card  ;  could  have  delivered  itself  up  to  the  sordid 
vice  of  the  gamester  ?     Yet  so  it  was  ! 

The  cards  were  dealt.  As  each  individual  sorted  their  hand 
a  sudden  transition  came  over  the  faces  of  the  players  ;  a  smile 
of  triumph  gleamed  on  the  features  of  the  countess  and  Sir 
Henry  Warrington.  Lord  Lexington's  wore  their  usual  apa- 
thetic expression  ;  while  the  countenance  of  Mrs.  Woodville 
became  paler  than  before.  She  saw  in  the  cards  she  held  that 
tlie  fate  of  the  <rame  was  decided ;   and  she  spent  the  few 

6* 


06  THE   OXOMAN3. 

minutes  occupied  in  playing  them,  in  summoning  sufficienf 
strength  of  mind  not  to  exhibit  too  openly  the  horror  and  de- 
spair that  had  taken  possession  of  her  heart.  Tlie  game  wa? 
concluded.  Mrs.  Woodville's  eyes  and  attituile  were  fixed 
like  a  marble  statue.  She  could  not  have  sjioken  without  a 
convulsion  that  would  have  betrayed  her. 

"  We  are  losers,  I  think,"  said  Lord  Lexington,  as  coolly 
as  though  the  stake  had  been  a  mere  triHe  ;  and,  turning 
several  large  notes  over  in  his  pocket-book,  "  I  see,"  con- 
tinued he,  "•  that  I  must  be  your  debtor,  countess,  till  to- 
morrow." The  word  '•'to-morrow"  struck  upon  the  ear  ol' 
Mrs.  VVoodville  like  a  reprieve.  It  gave  her  time  to  think,  to 
resolve  on  what  was  to  be  done.  With  that  sickness  of  heart, 
therefore,  which  is  the  accompaniment  of  severe  and  bitter 
disappointment ;  more  particularly  when  the  mind  is  conscious 
of  baring  acted  wrong  ;  she  turned  to  Sir  Henry,  and  was  ou 
the  point  of  mentioning  the  necessity  for  the  same  indulgence, 
when  Lady  Orville,  by  engaging  the  attention  of  the  old  peer, 
gave  the  laaronet  the  opportunity  of  saying,  "  My  dear  Mrs, 
Woodville,  do  not  trouble  yourself  for  a  moment.  Pray  suit 
your  own  convenience  ;  1  shall  only  be  too  happy  in  studying 
it.  It  was  too  high  a  stake,  and  I  only  played  it,  hoping  that 
you  might  have  cleared  yourself." 

There  was  nothing  in  this  sentence  but  what  was  perfectly 
natural  and  proper;  yet  there  was  something  in  the  tone  in 
which  it  was  uttered  that  grated  upon  the  ear  to  which  it  was 
addressed,  and  added  to  Mrs.  Woodville's  already  humiliating 
sense  of  her  situation. 

At  this  moment  she  thought  she  perceived  a  significant 
glance  pass  between  the  countess  and  Sir  Henry.  The  idea 
that  it  engendered  increased  her  sickness  of  heart,  but  gave 
her  a  momentary  gleam  of  courage  and  self-possession,  which 
enabled  her  to  bid  Lady  Orville  good-night  without  betraying 
farther  agitation. 

"  Upon  my  word,"  exclaimed  the  countess,  as  the  clock 
struck  four,  "  we  are  quite  gamblers  :  well,  good  night.'"' 
Then,  in  a  half  whisper,  "  Come  to  me  in  the  morning,  and  wo 
will  settle  it.  Baronet,  see  Mrs.  Woodville  to  her  carriage  ;'" 
and  then  speaking  to  a  domestic  who  just  appeared  in  view. 
"Call  Mrs. Woodville's andSir  Henry  Warrington's  carriage." 

The  baronet  ofiered  his  arm,  which  Mrs.  Woodville  shrink- 
ingly  accepted  ;  but  found  it  really  necessary  for  lier  support 
under  the  faintncss  by  which  she  was  oppressed. 

In  their  way  down  stairs,  she  thought  she  perceived  an  ap- 


THE   OXONIANS.  67 

pearance  of  sympathy  in  the  tone  of  voice  in  which  Sir  Henry 
addressed  her,  which  was  humiliating  and  disgusting  ;  but,  de- 
graded as  she  felt  in  her  own  mind,  she  had  not  sufficient 
courayje  to  repress  this  attempt  at  familiarity.  On  the  step  of 
the  carriage  he  retained  her  hand  for  a  moment,  and  asked  if 
she  would  be  visible  on  the  morrow.  She  had  just  strength 
enough  to  bow  her  head  in  taken  of  assent  ;  and,  as  the  horses 
darted  off,  she  sunk  with  an  hysterical  sob  in  the  back  of  the 
carriage.  That  agonyof  mind,  the  consequence  of  remorse; 
that  shrinking  of  the  inward  self  which  arises  from  shame ; 
oppressed  her  beyond  endurance,  and  her  feelings  sought  relief 
in  a  violent  flood  of  tears. 

Who  that  saw  the  gay  equipage  rolling  over  the  stones,  glit- 
tering in  the  glaring  light  of  the  flambeaux,  could  dream  of 
the  misery  within  ?  Yet  there  was  scarcely  a  labourer  wending 
liis  way  to  his  daily  toil  that  had  not  a  lighter  heart  than  its 
occupant. 

Lady  Orville  was  just  taking  leave  of  her  last  guests,  and 
playfully  scolding  Emily  and  her  daughter  for  looking  so 
fatigued  ;  when,  to  the  surprise  of  every  body  Mr.  Woodville 
entered,  saying,  that  seeing  some  carriages  still  at  the  door,  as 
liis  own  was  passing,  he  had  pulled  up  to  see  if  Mrs.  Wood- 
ville was  gone. 

"  Gone  !  oh  yes,  to  be  sure,"  said  Lady  Orville,  "she  went 
some  time  since  with  Sir  Henry  Warrington,  I  think  :  was  it 
not  ?"  appealing  to  her  daughter. 

"  Sir  Henry  Warrington  !"  said  Woodville  ;  and  his  counte- 
nance changed  as  he  caught  and  interpreted  the  look  with 
which  Lady  Orville  repeated,  "  Yes,  with  Sir  Henry  Warring- 
ton :  I  think  indeed  he  is  her  general  escort." 

"Hum!  Good-night,  countess;"  and  as  he  hurried  down 
stairs,  and  leaped  into  his  carriage,  a  sylph,  if  there  were  such 
things,  might  have  heard  him  exclaim  with  clenched  teeth, 
■'  D — n  Sir  Henry  Warrington  !" 

Lady  Orville  smiled  triumphantly  as  he  departed,  and  retired 
to  her  dressing-room. 

Every  thing  had  happened  that  she  could  wish.  The  as- 
sembly had  gone  off  with  eclat ;  she  had  won  a  very  large 
sum  of  money  ;  she  had  triumphed  over  an  innocent  woman 
whom  she  hated  ;  and  had  inflicted  a  pang  upon  the  heart  of 
one  who  she  thought  had  insulted  her.  She  had  been  the  ad- 
miration of  every  body,  and  her  taste  and  party  had  been 
lauded  to  the  skies.     Yet,  was  she  happy  ? 

Those  who  had  seen  the  smile  leave  her  countenance  the 


08  THE  OXOMATfS. 

moment  she  was  out  of  sight  of  the  world  ;  who  had  marked 
the  gloom  which  pervaded  her  brow  as  she  paced  backwards 
and  forwards  in  her  dressing-room,  and  as  she  sunk  absorbed 
into  her  fauteuil,  would  have  said  "No." 

There  was  that  wanting  in  Lady  Orville  without  which  hap- 
piness can  never  exist — self-respect !  IS'o  position  in  society, 
no  success  in  life,  no  adulation  of  the  world,  can  compensate 
for  its  absence.  Without  it,  the  heart  sinks  in  the  midst  of 
crowds,  and  shrinks  from  itself  in  the  moment  of  solitude. 
There  is  no  power  of  mind  that  can  support  us  under  the 
want  of  it ;  no  carelessness  or  thoughtlessness  that  will  enable 
us  to  forget  that  we  do  not  possess  it.  Lady  Orville  in  the 
world  and  Lady  Orville  alone,  were  very  different  persons. 

Restless  and  agitated  with  the  variety  of  schemes  of  passion 
and  ambition  that  occupied  her  brain.  Lady  Orville's  pillow 
seldom  presented  any  hope  of  sleep,  excepting  such  as  was 
procured  by  art.  To  this,  in  spite  of  her  triumph  in  play,  and 
over  Mr.  and  Mrs.  VVoodville,  she  was  obliged  to  have  re- 
course ;  and  drained  from  a  small  crystal  that  glittered  among 
the  superb  appendages  of  her  toilet,  that  potion  from  whose 
influence  she  was  to  derive  a  few  hours  of  uneasy  slumber. 


CHAPTER  X. 

A   MORKING. 

iVIay  tlic  evening's  amusement  bear  the  morning's  refiiectian. " 

Old  SfiNTijfENT. 

There  is  nothing  like  the  first  blush  of  the  morning,  or 
rather  our  first  waking  moments,  which  are  seldom  so  early, 
ibr  a  good  hearty  repentance  of  any  sin  or  folly  committed  the 
night  before.  Where  is  the  man  who,  after  a  night's  debauch, 
has  not  awakened,  disgusted  with  himself,  and  cursing  his  folly, 
as  the  sober  moments  of  reflection  bring  to  remembrance  all 
the  absurdities,  or  worse  than  absurdities,  of  which  his  ine- 
briety had  rendered  him  guilty?  Where  is  the  gambler  who 
does  not  wake  to  misery  as  the  morning  brings  to  mind  the 
sums  he  has  squandered  at  the  hazard  table  ;  and  the  difficul- 
ties of  raising  more  money  or  of  paying  his  present  losings  ; 


THE   OXO^'IAKS.  69 

even  the  winner  has  no  satisfaction  in  his  waking  thoughts, 
To  how  many,  indeed,  does  not  the  morning  bring  only  a  sense 
of  misery  to  which  sleep  had  given  a  temporary  oblivion  :  and 
to  how  few,  in  comparison,  is  it  the  harbinger  of  happiness. 

Mrs.  Woodvilie  felt  the  truth  of  these  reflections,  as  she 
slowly  opened  her  eyes  and  gradually  became  conscious  of 
the  events  of  the  preceding  evening.  At  first,  it  was  only  an 
indefinite  feeling  of  something  disagreeable,  but  as  s!eep  left 
her  eyelids,  she  became  overwhelmed  with  tlie  recollection  of 
her  losses,  and  oppressed  with  thoughts  as  to  how  they  were  to 
be  met.  She  had  only  a  small  sum  remaining  of  her  annual 
allowance,  while  her  losses  to  Sir  Henry  Warrington  were 
more  than  equal  to  the  amount  of  many  years  of  her  own  inde- 
pendent income.  Then  came  the  remembrance  of  his  manner, 
and  of  the  glances  she  had  observed  exchanged  between  the 
Baronet  and  Lady  Orville ;  and  this  was  accompanied  by  a 
suspicion  of  collusion  between  them,  which  appeared  to  be 
confirmed  by  the  recollection  of  the  m.any  ways  in  which  the 
countess  had  tempted  her  to  play.  She  began  to  perceive  that 
there  was  something  more  in  the  conduct  of  them  both  than 
met  the  eye  ;  and  she  had  the  painful  conviction  of  having 
committed  herself  and  her  name  partly  into  their  power. 

Disgusted  with  herself,  dreading  to  meet  the  light  of  day, 
yet  unable  to  bear  the  reflections  of  her  pillow,  she  determined 
to  lose  some  share  of  her  pain  in  activity,  and  ranar  hastily  for 
her  woman.  During  the  time  she  made  her  toilet  and  sipped 
her  chocolate,  her  mind  revolved  all  the  means  in  her  power  to 
extricate  herself  from  the  dilemma.  To  remain  in  sir  Henry's 
debt,  which  she  saw  she  miqht  easily  do  for  as  long  a  period  as 
she  pleased,  she  could  not  think  of  for  a  moment ;  to  apply  to 
Lady  Orville,  with  the  thoughts  which  her  conduct  of  the  pre- 
ceding eveninsr  had  engendered,  was  impossible  ;  and  she  had 
too  deep  a  sense  of  the  shame  which  attended  the  circum- 
stance, to  make  an  application  to  any  of  her  own  relations  pa- 
latable. To  the  only  person  whom  she  ought  to  have  made  a 
confidant,  and  to  whom  alone  she  could  with  propriety  apply 
for  assistance,  her  mind  never  turned  but  with  the  view  of  con- 
cealing it.  The  conduct  of  Woodvilie  had  long  closed  the 
door  of  confidence  between  him  and  his  wife  ;  and  she  shud- 
dered at  the  idea  of  laying  before  him  a  transaction  in  which 
he  would  have  so  just  a  right  to  blame  her.  During  the  time 
these  thoughts  were  rapidly  .succeeding  each  other  in  her  mind, 
her  maid  opened  her  jewel-case  for  the  purpose  of  arranging 
her  ornaments,  when,  the  sun  shining  on  the  brilliant  baubles, 


70  THE   OXONIAK9. 

they  suggested  to  her  a  means  of  emancipation  from  her  diffi- 
culty. On  her  marriage,  not  only  the  jewels  presented  by  her 
husband,  but  those  which  were  offerings  from  the  different 
branches  of  her  own  family,  were  so  magnificent,  as  not  only 
to  have  made  her  the  talk  and  envy  of  her  triends,  but  were  the 
subject  of  newspaper  panegyric.  Yet,  valuable  as  they  were, 
she  was  fearful  that  they  would  hardly  raise  the  amount  neces- 
sary to  liquidate  her  debt.  It  seemed,  however,  her  only  re- 
source, and  Simpson  was  accordingly  despatched  to  send  for 
Mr.  Garnett,  with  directions  for  him  to  be  shown  into  her 
boudoir.  The  time  that  elapsed  during  the  absence  of  her 
maid  was  spent  in  looking  over  the  glittering  assemblage  of 
ornaments,  and  she  remembered  with  sorrow  how  happy  she 
had  been  when  she  first  became  their  possessor  :  some  had  been 
given  her  by  Woodville  previous  to  their  marriage,  but  by  far 
the  most  splendid  were  those  which  she  had  received  as  his 
bride.  How  little  did  she  then  think  thai  they  would  ever  be 
devoted  to  such  a  purpose  as  that  to  which  thev  were  destined 
at  present.  No  other  means,  hovever,  presented  themselves 
to  her  mind,  and  their  sacrifice  was  resolved. 

When  Mr.  Garnett  was  announced,  and  saw  the  jewels 
spread  on  the  table,  he  anticipated  an  order  for  re-setting,  or 
for  some  ornament  to  match  those  which  glittered  before  him  ; 
he  knew  how  well  Mr.  Woodville  could  afford  to  be  the  pur- 
chaser of  his  splendid  wares,  and  Mrs.  Woodville  had  already 
been  a  sufficiently  good  customer,  to  render  him  doubly  obse- 
quious in  his  morning  salutation. 

"Pray,  Mr-  Garnett,  be  seated." 

The  jeweller  took  the  chair  she  pointed  out,  and  bent  for- 
ward to  receive  her  commands. 

"  These  diamonds,  Mr.  Garnett,  arc,  I  believe,  very  good 
ones." 

Of  the  first  water,  madara  ;  scarcely  to  be  matched  in  Lon- 
don.    Lady  B 's  are  paste  in  comparison  with  them,  and 

the  Dutchess  of  C 's  would  appear  pebbles  by  their  side  , 

but  they  might  be  set  to  much  more  advantage  " 

"  I  am  not  thinking  of  resetting  them,  Mr.  Garnett." 

"  Of  matching  some  part  of  them  perhaps." 

"  Not  exactly  to  match  them  either,"  and  she  revolved  in 
her  mind  the  best  way  of  breaking  the  business  for  which  she- 
had  sent  for  him.  The  more,  however,  she  turned  the  matter 
over  in  her  thoughts,  the  more  difficult,  the  more  hutniliating, 
did  her  task  appear. 

Mrs,  Woodville  to  become  a  trafficker  !  to  sell  her  diamonds 


THE  OXONIANS.  71 

a>  a  tradesman !  impossible !  Then  her  imagination  painted 
the  change  of  manner  in  Mr.  Garnett,  from  the  obsequious 
rvender  into  the  bargaining  purchaser,  the  moment  she  disclosed 
her  real  business  ;  and  even  his  respect  appeared  to  be  of  con- 
sequence at  this  moment.     She  remembered,  too,  how  Lady 

B 's  having  once  pledged  her  jewels  had  been  spoken  of; 

the  pitying  glances  which  had  been  cast  at  her  plain  headdress, 
after  the  report  had  got  wind  ;  and  this  remembrance  was  not 
a  little  imbittered  by  the  additional  one,  that  she  had  joined 
others  in  blaming  the  indelicacy  of  the  circumstance.  Yet, 
what  was  to  be  done  ?  The  money  must  be  paid,  or  she  must 
consent  to  lie  under  an  obligation  to  sir  Henry  Warrington, 
and  place  herself  in  a  certain  degree  in  the  power  of  Lady 
Orville  ;  both  of  which  she  was  determined  at  all  events  to 
avoid. 

"  Mr.  Garnett,  I  sent  for  you" — Mr.  Garnett  was  all  atten- 
tion. "  I  sent  for  you  on  some  particular  business."  The 
jeweller  appeared  still  more  attentive,  and  Mrs.  Woodville 
found  it  still  more  difficult  to  proceed.  "  Particular  business, 
Mr.  Garnett" — she  hesitated,  and  the  eyes  of  the  diamond 
merchant  began  to  open  with  something  like  surprise.  "  Of  a 
confidential  nature."  The  jeweller's  eyes  opened  still  wider. 
Mrs.  Woodville's  ideas  became  confused,  she  feared  she  might 
be  committing  herself  with  a  man  who  was  in  the  habit  of  in- 
tercourse with  many  of  her  acquaintance.  How  could  she 
be  certain  of  the  safety  of  her  secret,  even  if  the  absence  of 
her  jewels  from  her  dress  did  not  discover  it ;  the  delicacy  of 
lier  mind  shrunk  from  thus  exposing  her  necessities  to  the 
knowledge  of  a  common  tradesman.  These  ideas  crowding 
at  once  upon  her  mind  made  her  hesitate.  Yet  her  necessities 
pressed  her  forwards. 

"Mr.  Garnett " 

"  Madam !"  A  pause  ensued,  during  which  the  jeweller 
appeared  still  more  astonished. 

"  You  are,  I  believe,  confidentially  employed  by  many  of 
your  customers,  Mr.  Garnett  ?" 

"  Yes  ma'am,  by  many,  very  confidentially.  To  such  a 
<liscreet  lady  as  Mrs.  Woodville  I  can  with  safety  say,  very 
confidentially  indeed.''''  Then  drawing  his  chair  somewhat 
closer,  he  said,  in  a  whisper,  "  Why,  ma'am,  it  was  but  the 
other  day  that  a  countess,  not  a  hundred  miles  from  Cavendish. 
Square,  sent  for  me  to  dispose  of  her  real  jewels  and  gef 
paste  in  their  stead  ;  but  this  is  a  profound  secret,  and  will  re 
main  so,  for  nobody  can  tell  the  imitation  from  the  reality." 


72  THE  oxo^'TA^'«. 

Mrs.  Woodville  felt  a  blush  of  mingled  shame  and  indigna- 
tion spread  over  her  countenance,  as  she  listened  to  this  con- 
fidential communication  of  the  discreet  jeweller,  while  a 
slight  shudder  denoted  a  sense  of  her  escape  from  some  immi- 
nent danger.  During  this  period  poor  Mr.  Gannett  was  quite 
at  a  loss,  not  having  seen  his  communication  received  with  the 
same  pleasure  that  it  had  given  in  other  quarters  ;  when  his 
astonishment  readied  its  climax,  on  Mrs.  Woodville's  suddenly 
closing  the  jewel  case,  and  hastily  ringing  the  bell  finished 
the  interview  by  saying, 

"  I  will  not  trouble  you  just  now,  Mr.  Garnett ;  another 
time  I  will  send.  Good  morning,  Mr.  Garnett,"  and  the 
jeweller  quitted  the  room,  lifting  up  his  hands  and  eyes,  and 
setting  down  Mrs.  Woodville-as  mad. 

Again  she  became  irresolute,  and  again  rang  the  bell. 

"  Has  Mr.  Garnett  left  the  house  ?" 

"Yes  ma'am." 

'•'  Is  Mr.  Woodville  at  home  ?" 

"  Yes  ma'am,  in  his  library,"  answered  Simpson,  with  some 
surprise  at  so  unusual  a  question  ;  for  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Wood- 
ville seldom  saw  each  other  till  they  met  in  the  drawing-roolVi 
before  dinner. 

A  sudden  resolution  took  possession  of  her  mind ;  she  he- 
sitated one  minute  before  she  adopted  it,  and  the  next  her  hand 
was  on  tlie  lock  of  the  library  door.  She  trembled,  a 
faintness  came  over  her,  but  summoning  courage  she  tlirew 
open  the  door,  and,  tottering  into  the  room,  stood  before 
Jier  astonished  husband,  from  whose  hand  the  nevi'spaper  al- 
most dropped  with  the  surprise  created  by  such  an  unusual 
visit. 

"  Mrs.  Woodville !  liOuisa  !  what  has  happened  ?"  She 
struggled  for  utterance,  and  grew  still  paler.  "  What  is  the 
matter  ?     Has  any  thing  alarmed  you  ?" 

"Oh  Mr.  Woodville" — again  lier  ultcrajicc  was  choked, 
and  her  words  were  impeded  by  her  agitation. 

"  Sit  down,  Louisa,  my  love  ;  sit  down  and  compose  your- 
self." 

He  presented  her  a  cliair,  but  she  motioned  it  away.  She 
])res?ed  her  forehead  with  both  her  hands,  and  after  a  (ow  mi- 
nutes' pause  seemed  to  breathe  more  freely. 

During  this  period,  Mr.  Woodville  remained  silent,  cxpect- 
]ng  he  knew  not  what,  but  making  up  his  mind  to  somctjiing 
impleasant.  His  own  conscience  made  him  think  for  a  mo- 
ment that  she  wap  come  to  reproach  him  with  hi^^  raif!r":?nc?s' 


THE  OXONIANS.  73 

«nd  inattention,  and  with  the  late  change  of  his  habits  ;  and 
this  idea  perhaps  caused  him  to  appear  colder  in  his  reception 
of  her  unexpected  visit,  than  he  otherwise  would  have  been. 
He  now  waited  patiently.  He  saw  there  was  no  remedy 
against  a  scene,  and,  hating  scenes,  all  he  could  do  was  to  pre- 
pare himself  to  meet  it  in  the  manner  least  likely  to  make  any 
inroad  on  his  selfish  comforts. 

"  Oh  Mr.  Woodville  !  Oh !  Henry  !  Can  you  forgive  your 
imprudent — your  guilty  wife  ?" 

Expecting  only  reproaches,  the  whole  current  of  his  feelings 
changed  in  a  moment.     He  repeated  her  words. 

"  Guilty !  Good  God,  Mrs.  Woodville !"  and  her  feelings 
now  overpowering  her  so  much  as  to  prevent  her  continuance, 
he  reiterated,  in  a  voice  of  fierceness  mingled  with  apprehen- 
sion ;  "  Guilty  ?  Good  God,  what  do  you  mean  ?" 

Seeing  in  a  moment  the  bent  of  his  thoughts,  she  exclaimed 
almost  hysterically,  "  Oh  no ;  no,  no,  you  misunderstand. 
But  last  night — at  Lady  Orville's — sir  Henry  Warrington" — 
the  union  of  these  names  produced  their  effect  on  Woodville. 
He  clenched  his  teeth,  "  Well,  well,  speak,  speak  quickly — 

what,  what  of  them  ?     What  of  the ?"  he  stifled  the 

curse  that  was  bursting  from  his  lips. 

"  The  cards " 

This  word  operated  like  a  talisman  upon  Woodville  ;  he  saw 
the  whole  mischief  at  once,  and,  relieved  from  a  fear  of  he 
scarcely  knew  what,  he  resumed  his  tranquillity  in  a  moment, 
and,  patting  his  wife's  cheek,  he  said,  good-naturedly, 

"  Poor  thing  !  what,  she  has  lost  more  money  than  she  can 
pay?  Is  that  all?" 

"  All !  Oh  yes,  it  is  indeed  all.  But,  believe  me,  Woodville, 
it  has  so  oppressed  me  with  grief  and  shame,  that  I  have  vowed 
never  to  touch  a  card  again.     And  the  amount  too!" 

"  Well,  well,  never  mind  ;  'tis  well  it  is  no  worse  !  and  to 
whom  did  you  lose  it  ?" 

*'  To  sir  Henry  Warrington." 

"  Hum  !  And  he  played  with  Lady  Orville." 

"Yes." 

"  And  they  both  tempted  you  to  play  on — and  on — and  to 
double  your  stakes  ?" 

"Yes." 

"  Hum.     I  know  them  well." 

"  Sir  Henry  begged  me  to  remain  his  debtor,  and  to  wait 
my  own  convenience  ;  but  I  prefer  my  present  humiliation  to 

Vol.  L— 7 


74  THE  OXONIANS. 

a  silence  that  I  felt  must  in  some  degree  compromise  your 
honour  as  well  as  my  own.  I  prefer,  Woodville,  enduring 
your  anger,  submitting  to  any  thing,  to  any  thing  that  you 
shall  prescribe  ;  even  to  quilting  society  and  the  world,  or  any 
other  privation  of  which  you  may  think  my  folly  deserving  ; 
to  remaining  under  the  slightest  obligation  to  sir  Henry  War- 
rington." 

A  gleam  of  satisfaction  passed  over  Woodvi lie's  counte- 
nance at  this  declaration  ;  lie  called  her  a  little  fool  for  making 
herself  so  exceedingly  unhappy,  and  asked  her  the  amount  of 
her  obligation.  She  hesitated — blushed — trembled,  and  it  was 
not  till  after  the  question  i)ad  been  repeated  several  times  that 
she  stammered  out  the  sum  she  had  lost  on  the  previous  eve- 
ing. 

The  moment  she  had  named  it,  she  covered  her  face  with 
her  hands,  and  sobbed  with  shame  and  agony.  Woodville,  in 
spite  of  his  equanimity,  started  at  the  largeness  of  the  amount ; 
and  expressions  of  ansjer  were  rising  to  his  lips,  when  the  sight 
of  her  repentance,  and  the  certainty  that  no  anger  of  his  could 
lessen  the  evil,  repressed  them.  He  took,  however,  one  or  two 
strides  across  the  room  ;  cursed  Lady  Orville  and  the  Baronet 
from  the  bottom  of  his  heart  ;  and  was  again  approaching  his 
wife,  when  the  sound  of  wheels  and  a  loud  knocking  at  tlie 
street  door  announced  morning  visiters. 

"  It  is  he  !  it  is  Sir  Henry  !"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Woodville, 
starting.     "  Ring,  ring,  and  say  I  am  not  at  home  to  him." 

Woodville  rang  the  bell,  hastily. 

"Should  that  be  Sir  Henry  Warrington,"  said  he  to  the 
servant,  "  tell  Warner  to  show  him  into  this  room." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ? — let  me  retire,"  said  Mrs.  Woodville, 
hastily. 

"  By  no  means,  Louisa,  sit  down  on  this  sofa,  dry  your  eyes, 
and  look  as  pleased  as  you  can."  He  had  scarcely  uttered 
these  words,  and  effected  the  arrangements  they  dictated,  when 
the  door  was  thrown  open,  and  Lady  Orville  and  Sir  Henry 
Warrington  were  announced. 

An  involuntary  start  which  neither  of  them  could  repress, 
betrayed  their  surprise  at  (he  scene  which  presented  itself. 

Woodville  and  his  wife  tete-a-tete,  apparently  the  most  af- 
fectionate and  domestic  couple  in  the  world,  and  evidently 
appearing  pleased  with  each  other;  was  indeed  a  scene  for 
which  neiliier  the  Countess  nor  her  friend  were  prepared. 

Lady  Orville,  with  her  usual  self-command,  recovered  from 
her  surprise  in  a  moment ;  and  approaching  Mrs.  Woodville, 


THE    OXONIANS.  76 

exclaimed,   "  Well,  1  declare,  quite  domestic  ;  breakfasting 
with  your  husband !   why  the  world  wouldn't  believe  it." 

"  Lady  Orville  is  the  only  person  difficult  of  belief  on  this 
point,  I  think,"  answered  Woodville.  "Why,  Warrington, 
my  dear  fellow,  what  ails  you  this  morning?  you  appear  ill." 
Sir  Henry  Warrington  had  entered  the  room  with  anempressS 
and  half-familiar  air,  which  had  been  immediately  repressed 
by  the  sight  of  Woodville  with  his  wife,  as  he  expected  to  have 
found  the  latter  alone  ;  and  he  had  not  the  tact  of  Lady 
Orville  so  speedily  to  recover  himself  from  his  surprise.  He 
stammered  out  something  by  way  of  reply  to  Woodville,  who 
enjoyed  his  confusion  ;  and  hoping  that  Mrs.  Woodville  was 
well,  the  Baronet  took  a  chair. 

"  No  cold,  I  trust,  my  dear,  last  night,  for  I  understand  it 
was  intensely  cold  when  Sir  Henry  put  you  into  your  car- 
riage," said  Lady  Orville. 

"  None  at  all,  I  thank  your  Ladyship." 

"  By-the-by,  Warrington,  my  little  wife  tells  me,  she  is 
your  debtor,"  said  Woodville.  "  Really,  Countess,  I  must 
scold  you,  if  you  take  so  little  care  of  your  protegee  as  to  let 
her  always  have  such  ill  luck.  Sir  Henry,  I  had  better  give 
you  a  draft  for  the  trifle  Mrs.  Woodville  lost  last  night,"  (he 
took  a  sheet  of  paper,  and  wrote  an  order  upon  Couttsforthe 
amount,  and  handing  it  over  to  Sir  Henry,  added,  a  little 
satirically,)  "for  by  your  early  visit  this  morning,  I  apprehend 
your  value  for  the  vulgar  proverb,  of  short  reckonings  make 
long  friends  ;  and  T  would  not  deprive  Mrs.  Woodville  of  such 
a  friend  by  neglecting  the  old  adage." 

Sir  Henry,  as  he  looked  at  the  large  amount  at  the  bottom 
of  the  draft,  could  scarcely  repress  the  word  "  trifle,"  which 
rose  to  his  lips, 

"  That  is  quite  right,  if  my  wife  is  a  correct  accountant." 

"  Quite,"  replied  Sir  Henry,  as  with  an  awkwardness  he 
never  felt  before,  he  put  the  draft  m.echanically  into  his  card 
case. 

Even  Lady  Orville  was  staggered,  as  she  perceived  by  the 
Baronet's  countenance,  and  a  glimpse  at  the  draft,  that  Mrs. 
Woodville  had  given  her  husband  a  correct  account  of  her 
losses ;  and  she  thought  it  necessary  to  express  her  sorrow 
that  such  ill  luck  should  have  attended  Mrs.  Woodville  at 
Orville  house. 

"  Oh,  Countess,  there  is  no  occasion  for  sorrow  ;  on  the 
contrary,  it  has  procured  me  the  pleasure  of  obliging  Mrs. 
Woodville ;  a  pleasure  which  does  not  often  occur,  and  which 


76  THE    OXONIAKS. 

is  very  well  worth  the  trifle  which  she  has  lost.  And  now, 
Sir  Henry,  the  business  of  your  visit  being  over,  we  must 
wish  you  a  good  morning  ;  as  Mrs.  Woodville  and  myself  are 
going  to  ride.  We  shall  meet  in  the  park  ;  and  I  am  sure 
neither  you  nor  Lady  Orville  are  to  be  ranked  among  those 
who  would  interrupt  a  domestic  tete-a-tete." 

**  Oh,  certainly  not,"  exclaimed  the  Countess,  with  an  in- 
dignant toss  of  the  head,  adding,  '•  my  love,  we  shall  meet  at 
Lady  Pharos  to-night,  and  I  will  take  care  you  shall  have  your 
revenge  on  the  Baronet.  Adieu,  Woodville  ;  au  revoir  :"  and 
the  Countess  left  the  room,  followed  by  Sir  Henry,  who  was 
so  crest  fallen  at  what  had  occurred,  that  he  never  recovered 
himself  during  the  whole  interview  ;  and  Lady  Orville  was  not 
the  person  to  conceal  her  own  spleen,  or  not  to  vent  it  on  the 
person  nearest  to  her ;  so  that  the  honourable  Baronet,  in  ad- 
dition to  his  other  discomfiture,  had  to  bear  the  gibes  and  jeers 
of  the  bitter  Countess. 

The  moment  the  door  was  closed,  and  they  were  alone  ; 
Mrs.  Woodville  seized  her  husband's  hand,  and  uttered  an  al- 
most passionate  exclamation  of  thanks.  The  apathy,  however, 
with  which  they  were  received,  repressed  this  burst  of  feeling, 
and  she  could  only  entreat  that  he  would  repay  himself  from 
her  pin-money. 

"Nonsense,  nonsense,  Louisa  ;  'tis  but  my  keeping  fewer 
hunters  for  the  next  two  or  three  seasons ;  lessening  a  part  of 
my  personal  establishment ;  or,  perhaps,  selling  the  crai^-lands  ; 
which  is  really  an  exciescence  on  my  estate  ;  and  all  will  be 
right  again  ;  and  to  tell  you  the  truth,  I  am  more  than  repaid, 
by  the  triumph  which  the  circumstance  has  given  me  over  that 
vindictive  and  proud  devil,  Lady  Orville.  So  go,  Louisa,  dry 
your  eyes,  put  on  your  habit,  and  we  will  take  a  turn  or  two  in 
the  park  ;  to  give  the  lie  to  all  the  little  scandalous  tales,  that 
I  have  no  doubt  are,  before  this,  bruited  about  by  five  hundred 
kind  friends,  with  the  Countess  at  the  head  of  them." 

So  saying,  he  rang  for  his  valet  ;  and  Mrs.  Woodville  re- 
tired to  her  dressing-room,  delivered  from  the  load  of  care 
which  oppressed  her  ;  but  chilled  and  disappointed  by  the 
manner  in  which  her  grateful  feelings  had  been  received. 

The  fact  was,  that  Woodville  had  paid  the  money  more  for 
the  sake  of  his  own  honour  than  from  affection  for  Mrs.  Wood- 
ville. His  carelessness  of  her  person  had  not  made  him  one 
jot  less  jealous  of  her,  or  rendered  him  the  less  tenacious  of 
her  character  as  his  wife.  Her  honour  was  a  part  of  his  own  ; 


THE    OXONIANS.  77 

and  he  relieved  himself  by  preventing  any  improper  imputa- 
tion attaching  to  her. 

Such  were  the  motives  by  which  he  had  been  actuated  ;  and 
having  once  determined  his  line  of  conduct,  he  was  too  wise  to 
lessen  the  effect  of  his  generosity  on  his  wife,  by  expressing 
any  of  that  blame  which  certainly  attached  to  her  conduct. 

Woodville  wasjwe  are  afraid,  a  very  common  character.  lie 
was  called  by  those  who  knew  him  only  in  society,  a  good  fellow  ; 
by  many  considered  a  clever  one,  and  by  all  a  pleasant  one.  That 
is,  he  kept  a  good  house,  and  received  most  of  those  who  were  in- 
troduced to  him  with  an  open  hand,  and  with  such  a  welcome  as 
would  impress  each  with  the  idea  that  he  was  received  as  some- 
thing more  than  a  common  acquaintance  ;  and  they  left  him, 
thinking  him  one  of  the  most  hospitable  men  in  the  world.  In 
his  house-hold,  Mr.  Woodville  was  a  good,  or  rather  a  kind  mas- 
ter, an  indulgent  husband,  an  urbane  host ;  his  smooth  features 
were  seldom  ruffled  by  a  frown ;  a  placid  smile  generally  sat  on  his 
lips.  If  not  brilliant  himself  at  his  table,  he  had  the  art  to 
draw  out  the  brilliancy  of  others  ;  while  his  own  conversation 
and  repartee  was  frequently  of  such  a  character  as  to  impress 
common  minds  with  the  idea  that  he  himself  was  a  man  of 
genius.  It  is  true  he  had  read  much,  had  seen  much  (perhaps 
too  much),  had  mingled  greatly  with  the  world,  and  was  in 
every  respect  the  man  one  likes  to  meet  with  and  to  make  an 
acquaintance  ;  and  from  whom  few  parted  without  the  idea 
that  Mr.  Woodville  had  felt  a  more  than  common  interest  in 
their  welfare. 

But,  agreeable  as  Mr.  Woodville  was,  bland  as  were  his 
manners,  pleasant  as  was  his  table,  and  admired  as  he  was  by 
many ;  Mr.  Woodville  still  wanted  one  thing — Mr.  Woodville 
wanted  a  heart.  His  hand  was  held  out  to  every  body ;  his 
doors  were  open  to  every  body  ;  his  table  was  surrounded  by 
guests  who  enjoyed  his  hospitality  ;  but  his  heart  was  open  to 
none,  save  himself.  The  very  goodness  of  his  temper  arose 
from  selfishness  ;' since  it  in  general  prevented  scenes,  or  any 
thing  that  could  make  an  inroad  on  his  placidity.  Jealousy  was 
the  only  passion  that  ever  ruffled  him  ;  the  creation  of  this 
feeling  affected  his  pride  ;  and  though  careless  of  conquest 
when  won,  he  was  vain  of  the  continuance  of  that  affection 
for  him,  for  which  his  own  was  never  to  be  given  in  return. 
With  him,  however,  the  diminution  of  affection  did  not  dimi- 
nish his  kindness  to  the  object.  To  be  unkind  would  have 
been  an  exertion  too  contrary,  or  rather  too  energetic  for  his 
nature  ;  he  found  it  the  easiest  task  to  be  kind  ;  it  prevented 
7* 


78  THE    OXONIAITS. 

altercation,  it  stopped  argument,  and  it  furnislied  him  with  a 
shield,  under  which  he  "covered  a  multitude  of  sins." 

Well,  away  went  Mr.  and  Mrs.  VVoodville.  He  all  smiles  and 
attentions,  and  she  doing  her  best  to  rally  her  spirits  ;  and  they 
were,  of  course,  set  down  by  the  ill-judging  multitude,  as  one 
of  the  happiest  couples  in  the  world. 

Woodville  had  likewise  the  gratification  of  kissing  his  hand 
once  or  twice  in  the  circle  to  Lady  Orville  and  her  discomfited 
Baronet ;  and  he  took  care  to  throw  all  the  triumph  of  his  heart 
into  his  looks,  till  the  Countess  actually  left  the  Park  from 
vexation. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

A    WIFE. 

Whoso  fiiidetU  a  wife  fiadeth  a  good  thing. 

Fkoverbs  xviii.  22. 

As  one  half  of  the  world  never  knows  how  the  other  half 
lives  ;  so  few  who  see  men  in  all  the  gayety  of  the  evening, 
have  an  idea  of  the  manner  in  which  their  mornings  are  passed. 
And  yet  the  agonizing  headache  of  the  drunkard  when  he  first 
wakes  from  his  unrefreshing  slumber,  is  not  a  greater  contrast 
to  the  excitement  of  the  previous  evening,  when  every  word, 
perhaps,  which  he  uttered,  set  the  table  in  a  roar,  than  are  the 
matinal  occupations  of  most  members  of  society  to  their 
evening  pursuits. 

The  coquette,  so  brilliant  at  night ;  see  her  in  the  morning, 
repairing  her  haggard  charms  at  the  toilet,  sighing  over  every 
additional  wrinkle,  and  lamenting  every  disappearing  dimple. 
The  younger  lady ;  whose  beauties  have  not  yet  felt  the  canker- 
worm  of  care  and  the  deeper  effects  of  dissipation ;  see  the 
languor  which  the  ball  of  the  preceding  night  has  left ;  the 
ennui  by  which  she  is  oppressed,  and  the  anxiety  with  which 
she  awaits  the  moment  of  society  and  excitement. 

Who  that  sees  and  envies  the  exquisite  ;  the  paragon  of  dress, 
who,  perhaps,  sets  the  fashion  ;  who  is  all  listlessness  and  ele- 
gance ;  rolling  about  the  streets  in  his  vis-a-vis,  from  one  party 
to  another  all  the  night,  would  dream  that  his  mornings  are 


THE    0X0KIAN3.  79 

beset  with  duns  ;  that  every  knock  at  his  door  gives  him  an 
ague  ;  that  it  is  nothing  but  the  magic  power  of  the  cabalistic 
letters  M.  P.  that  preserves  him  from  a  prison  ;  and  that, 
though  he  has  the  privilege  of  helping  to  give  laws  in  the  eve- 
ninij,  he  must  consent  to  have  them  prescribed  to  him  by  some 
insolent  tradesman  in  the  morning.  Or,  to  look  at  a  little  bet- 
ter picture,  who  could  believe  that  the  man  whose  abandon- 
ment to  all  the  gayeties  of  society  ;  who  is  the  most  careless 
and  the  most  ceaseless  in  his  conversation  ;  who  seems  to 
utter  nothing  but  the  spontaneous  effusions  of  the  thoughts  of 
thoughtlessness  ;  who  has  a  word  for  the  silly,  a  sentence  for 
the  wise,  a  sigh  for  a  woman's  ear,  and  a  repartee  for  a  man's 
laugh  ;  and  is  apparently  but  a  biped  illustration  of  Bayley's 
Butterfly  Beau ;  who,  I  say,  would  believe  that  such  a  man's 
mornings  are  spent  in  the  pursuits  of  some  of  the  most  ab- 
stract sciences  ;  that  our  literature  is  indebted  to  his  labours 
for  many  valuable  additions  ;  that  mankind  are  benefited  by 
his  exertions  in  the  great  cause  of  human  nature  ;  in  short, 
that  three  parts  of  his  life  are  devoted  in  wisdom,  while  the 
fourth  finds  its  repose  in  folly. 

Oh  !  could  we  look  behind  the  scenes  of  society  ;  had  we 
some  fairy  power  to  dive  into  the  secrets  of  men's  minds  ;  aye, 
or  even  to  see  them  in  their  lonely  moments  instead  of  merely 
in  the  holyday  apparel  in  which  they  dress  their  minds  as  well 
as  their  persons  for  society,  what  a  different  estimate  we  should 
form  of  human  nature !  what  a  number  of  mistaken  notions 
would  be  corrected  !  how  much  of  our  envy  and  regret  would 
be  diminished  ;  and  how  much  more  contented  we  should  be 
with  our  own  lots  ! Perhaps  ! 

That  perhaps  is  an  awkward  word  ;  and  so  to  our  history. 
The  reader  must  pay  another  morning  visit  with  us,  and  if 
morning  visits  are  as  great  a  bore  to  him  as  they  are  to  the 
author,  why  he  is  to  be  pitied.  Yet  he  must  take  a  turn  to 
Mr.  Langley's  and  see  how  the  morning  was  passed  in  his 
second  floor. 

Langley's  unjust  and  unfortunate  story  has  been  detailed, 
and  his  loss  of  fortune  would  have  thrown  any  other  man,  per- 
haps, out  of  the  pale  of  that  society  in  which  we  have  found 
him ;  since  it  had  been  his  wealth  and  not  his  rank  that  had 
given  him  pretensions  to  it.  Langley,  however,  was  generally 
liked  ;  and  he  possessed  a  buoyancy  of  spirit,  and  a  temper 
too  sanguine  to  permit  himself  to  be  at  once  depressed  by 
misfortune.  His  habits  were  also  too  much  formed  on  the 
models  of  that  society  for  him  easily  to  change  them ;  and  the 


80  TII£    0X0>'IAK9. 

hope  that  he  might  derive  some  good  from  preserving  his 
high  connexions,  gave  him  a  very  reasonable  excuse  for  con- 
tinuing to  cultivate  them.  As  we  announced  this  chapter  by 
the  trite  observation  that  one  half  of  mankind  does  not  know 
how  the  other  half  lives  ;  I  think  we  may  justly  add,  that  nei- 
ther does  it  care  ;  as  long  as  the  misery  and  poverty  of  the 
unhappy  moiety  is  never  intruded  upon  the  comforts  and 
splendour  of  the  more  fortunate  half. 

We  do  not  care  how  poor  the  man  is  who  makes  himself 
agreeable  at  our  table,  while  he  keeps  his  poverty  to  himself 
and  does  not  trouble  us  with  it.  We  care  not  how  empty  a 
man's  purse  is,  provided  he  does  not  ask  us  to  replenish  it ;  or 
how  severe  the  wants  of  our  companions  may  be,  so  long  as 
we  are  not  asked  to  relieve  them. 

This  appears  to  be  but  a  sorry  picture  of  human  nature  ; 
but  it  will  be  found  in  most  instances  a  true  one.  Each  of 
us  expects  in  his  own  particular  case,  to  find  it  otherwise  ; 
and  experience  is  the  only  touchstone  that  discovers  the 
truth. 

Langley  had  not  yet  made  this  experiment.  In  spite  of  his 
ofi'-hand  manner,  a  great  portion  of  self-possession,  and  many 
of  those  qualities  which  make  what  is  called  a  "  dashing  cha- 
racter," he  had  a  fund  of  innate  modesty,  as  well  as  of  deep 
and  sensitive  feeling,  which  made  him  shrink  from  asking  a 
favour  ;  yet  it  was  with  this  view  only  that  he  concealed  his 
marriage,  and  kept  in  society.  His  Oxford  education  had  fitted 
him  for  no  particular  pursuit,  and  he  found  himself  thrown 
upon  the  world,  fortuneless,  and  useless  ;  whereas,  had  he 
possessed  the  accomplishments  of  a  common  schoolboy,  in 
book-keeping  and  arithmetic  ;  or  any  useful  knowledge  of  the 
commerce  of  his  country  ;  a  hundred  situations  might  have 
been  open  to  him  through  the  commercial  connexions  of  his 
late  father.  But  with  them  Latin  and  Greek  were  useless  ; 
and  the  Italian  method  of  book-keeping  was  more  valued, 
than  all  the  Italian  literature,  from  Dante  down  to  Sis- 
mondi. 

Langley  had  depended  much  upon  his  literary  talents, 
but  they  were  of  too  light  a  nature  to  rank  his  name  in  the 
abstruser  pursuits  of  literature  ;  and  there  was  then  no  Col- 
burn  to  cater  with  a  liberal  hand  for  the  mere  entertainment  of 
the   *•' reading  public." 

He  attempted  a  tragedy  ;  but  one  manager  dismissed  him 
with  many  thanks  for  its  perusal,  saying,  "  That  it  was — 
really — a  very  good  play — much  effect — great  talent — would 
not  suit  his  house  ;  but  the  very  thing  for  the  other." 


THE   OXONIANS.  81 

To  the  other  manager  he  applied  :  but  here  tragedy  was  out 
of  fashion. 

In  despair,  and  building  his  hopes  on  the  opinion  of  the  first 
manager ;  he  ventured  to  plead  ;  and  in  pleading,  detailed  the 
past  misfortunes  and  the  present  misery  which  drove  him  to 
the  drama  as  a  resource. 

The  manager  eyed  him  with  a  glance  of  pity.  "  You'd 
better  write  a  farce,  sir,  and  I'll  act  it ;"  said  he,  and  dis- 
missed the  petitioner. 

"  Write  a  farce,"  thought  Langley,  as  he  wended  his  dis- 
consolate steps  homeward  ;  "  write  a  farce  ;  with  poverty 
staring  me  in  the  face  ;  my  wife's  cheeks  growing  paler  and 
thinner  every  day  ;  my  child  half-starved  ;  my  whole  circle 
surrounded  by  misery,  and  write  a  farce." 

The  thing  seemed  impossible  ;  but  Langley  was  wrong. 
Most  farces  have  been  written  under  similar  circumstances. 
The  jokes  that  have  appeared  the  spontaneous  result  of  wit, 
have  been  the  coinage  of  sheer  necessity.  The  scenes  that 
had  convulsed  an  audience  with  laughter  have  been  penned 
amid  the  convulsions  of  disease  and  poverty.  Puns  have 
been  the  offspring  of  a  prison,  and  the  jocund  song  or  buoyant 
scene  have  been  invented  in  the  midst  of  ruined  hopes  and 
overwhelming  misfortunes. 

Langley's  spirit  was,  however,  of  that  elastic  kind,  that, 
like  Jndian-riibber,  it  rose  again  in  spite  of  all  the  rubs  it  re- 
ceived ;  and  one  scheme  only  failed,  to  be  succeeded  by  an- 
other. Mrs.  Langley,  who,  to  a  very  fine  mind,  united  a  great 
portion  of  the  much  more  useful  quality— common  sense  ;  of 
which,  by-the-by,  one  ounce  is  of  far  more  utility  than  all  the 
genius  that  ever  blazed  in  the  page  of  poetry,  or  lay  buried 
in  that  of  science  ;  saw  with  sorrow  this  tendency  of  her  hus- 
band to  pursue  splendid  phantoms  instead  of  humble  realities. 
She  wished  much  to  detach  him  from  the  scenes  of  gay  life, 
which  only  rendered  their  own  more  wretched  by  the  contrast ; 
although  she  too  saw  the  advantage  which  might  be  made  by 
his  connexions,  provided  Langley  would  try  them,  and  they 
should  prove  willing  to  assist  him. 

Their  morning's  conversation  was  generally  turned  either 
upon  some  disappointed  scheme  of  the  yesterday,  or  some  pro- 
jected one  of  the  morrow  ;  occasionally  interspersed  with 
anecdotes  of  the  party  of  the  preceding  evening  by  Langley, 
and  urgent  entreaties  on  the  part  of  his  wife  to  make  some 
use  of  those  great  friends  who  composed  them.  On  the  morn- 
ing in  question,  over  their  humble  muffin  and  souchong,  un« 


IB  THE    OXONIANS. 

accompanied  by  the  varied  et  ceteraa  which  coTcr  a  modern 

breakfast-table,  their  colloquy  took  the  usual  turn. 

"  Why,  as  you  say,  my  love,"  said  Langley,  in  reply  to  some 
observation  of  his  wife,  "  it  does  seem  a  little  too  bad,  that  I 
should  figure  away  at  gay  parties,  and  keep  you  cooped  up 
here  in  a  second  floor,  under  a  false  name  ;  but  you  know  it  19 
all  for  our  good,  and  the  moment  success  crowns  any  of  my 
schemes  you  shall  be  repaid  for  all." 

"Ah!  my  dear  Charles,  do  not  think  I  complain  of  your 
pleasures,  or  that  I  covet  any  other  than  those  I  find  in  your 
society,  and  in  the  smiles  of  our  dear  infant.  They  are  suffi- 
cient to  satisfy  the  heart  of  a  loving  wife  and  an  affectionate 
mother.     But — " 

"  Ay,"  interrupted  Langley  ;  "  now  there  is  one  of  your 
killing  '  buts.'  You  go  on,  n)y  love,  in  the  smoothest  way  in 
the  world  ;  saying  the  kindest,  the  sweetest,  and  the  most 
cheering  things  ;  and  then  comes  that  odious  monosyllable 
which  I  hate.  'But!'  the  word  ought  to  be  expunged  from 
our  language.— '  But !'  'tis  such  an  inelegant  word  too.  I 
wonder  my  darling  Fanny  can  use  it."  Mrs.  Langley  sighed; 
and  Langley  continued,  *•'  Come,  come  ;  don't  be  low  spirited  : 
I  see  a  thousand  hopes  for  the  future." 

"  But  what  use  is  it,  my  dear  Charles,"  asked  Mrs.  Langley, 
"  to  look  to  the  future  when  the  present  almost  overwhelms 
us?" 

"  Why,  to  be  sure,  I  must  confess,  my  dear  Fanny,  that  the 
present  is  not  very  alluring.  A  portion  of  our  chairs  and 
tables  has  moved  off,  as  though  they  were  animal  instead  of 
vegetable  quadrupeds.  Our  equipage  is  such  as  nature  has 
provided  for  us  with  the  rest  of  mankind  ;  water  is  our  com- 
mon beverage  ;  and  tea  serves  us  for  champagne.  Yet,  de- 
pend on  it,  something  will  turn  up  yet ;  some  of  my  plans 
must  succeed  at  last." 

"  Oh,  as  to  your  plans,  my  dearest  Charles,  I  have  no  longer 
any  hope  from  them.  Remember  your  play  from  which  you 
were  to  make  a  fortune." 

"  True,  the  manager  would  not  act  it." 

"Then  your  poem,  which  was  to  provide  for  me  and  my 
child  for  life  ?" 

"  Ay,"  added  Langley,  '*  and  procure  me  a  lodging  in  Poet's 
corner  after  my  death." 

"  Why,  the  bookseller  would  not  even  read  it." 

«'  There,  my  Fanny,  was  the  misfortune  :  had  he  read  it, 
he  would  have  published  it  ;  and  it  would  have  done  all  I  pre- 
dicted from  it." 


THE    OXONIANS.  8S 

"  Oh  Charles,  Charles  !  with  your  education  what  might  you 
not  do  ;   what  might  it  not  fit  you  for  ?" 

"  There,  my  love,  you  are  mistaken.  The  fact  is,  my  edu- 
cation has  unfitted  me  for  every  thing.  A  college  is  well 
enough  to  enable  a  man  to  dawdle  through  existence,  and 
to  colour  his  conversation  with  quotations  from  the  classics. 
I  certainly  am  a  most  unlucky  wight.  If  I  were  at  the  bar,  I 
dare  say  there  would  not  be  a  soul  litigious  enough  to  give  me 
a  brief,  if  I  turned  tradesman,  the  article  I  dealt  in  would  no 
doubt  go  out  of  fashion  ;  and  I  verily  believe  the  greatest  good 
I  could  do  my  country  would  be  to  set  up  physician  ;  since, 
you  may  depend  upon  it,  all  the  world  would  be  healthy,  to 
prevent  me  getting  into  practice." 

"  But  these  powerful  friends,"  said  Mrs.  Langley,  "  who 
invite  you  so  often.  Surely,  if  you  were  to  tell  them  lliat  you 
were  a  husband,  a  father,  and  in  want,  they  would  do  something 
for  you." 

"  The  very  thing,  my  love,  to  prevent  them.  It  is  only  for 
those  who  want  nothing  that  they  are  willing  to  do  every  thing. 
And  did  they  know  how  very  poor  I  am,  and  that  I  lived 
perched  up  in  a  second  floor,  it  is  ten  to  one  if  they  would 
speak  to  me." 

"  Oh  Charles,  Charles  !  this  false  pride  will  be  your  ruin. 
Oh  !  by  all  the  affection  which  my  heart  feels  for  you,  and  which 
you  profess  for  me  ;  by  the  smiles  of  our  innocent  babe  ; 
by  the  remembrance  of  that  kindness  to  my  ruined  parents, 
which  first  won  my  love  ;  let  me  conjure  you  to  overcome  this 
false  delicacy,  and  to  make  some  struggle  to  rescue  us  from 
the  poverty  which  threatens  us." 

"  But  then,  Fanny,  to  tell  them  I  am  so  very  poor  ;  that  the 
lesult  of  my  father's  dying  intestate  has  quite  ruined  me  ;  to 
tell  them  that  the  wit  which  has  set  their  tables  in  a  roar  ema- 
nates from  a  broken  heart — " 

"  Nay,  Charles,  poverty  is  only  a  disgrace,  when  it  is  the 
consequence  of  neglect  or  crime.  Not  when  it  is  produced 
by  misfortune,  and  supported  with  resignation  :  surely  none 
can  be  so  cold-hearted  as  to  bask  in  the  sunshine  of  wit,  and 
neglect  the  necessities  of  him  who  exerts  it  for  their  en- 
tertainment." 

"  It  is  too  generally  the  case  though.  Man  is  a  selfish 
aRimal,  contented  with  the  surface, — but  Fanny  you  have  in- 
spired me.  I  will  this  very  day  summon  courage  and  remind 
a  noble  peer,  who  has  treated  me  with  distinguished  kind- 
ness, of  his  promise  to  befriend  me." 


84  THE   OXONIANI. 

♦'  Now  that's  my  dear  Charles." 

"  Yes,  I  will ;  so  wipe  away  your  tears,  and  recall  one  of 
those  captivating  smiles  which  first  bewitched  me  into  becom- 
ing your  husband  before  I  was  certain  of  the  stability  of  my 
fortunes.  And  yet  I  thought  I  was  certain  ;  for  I  never  would 
have  asked  my  Fanny  to  partake  of  the  miseries  of  my  po- 
verty, although  1  should  have  been  proud  to  have  shared  the 
luxuries  of  my  wealth  with  her." 

"  But  in  case  you  fail,  may  I  not  try  to  soften  the  heart 
of  my  uncle  ?     I  see  by  the  papers  he  is  arrived  in  town." 

"  No,  Fanny.  I  could  not  bear  you  to  ask  assistance  from 
that  hard-hearted  relation,  whose  name  you  have  ever  forborne 
to  mention  tome,  on  account  of  my  indignation  at  his  total  de- 
sertion of  your  angelic  mother.  Besides,  what  affection  can  he 
have  for  one  whom  he  has  never  seen  ?  I  want  to  be  dependent 
upon  nothing  but  my  own  exertions.  I  do  not  wish  to  be  a 
drone  in  the  busy  hive  of  society,  and  should  blush  to  ask  for 
a  place  where  the  labour  was  not  adequate  to  the  emolument. 
Come,  Fanny,  give  me  a  kiss :  I  will  be  off  to  the  clubs :  I 
shall  meet  there  with  many  a  man  in  power,  and  will  watch  a 
favourable  opportunity  of  preferring  my  suit."  So  saying, 
away  went  Langley  to  his  morning's  lounge  at  the  clubs,  or  his 
stroll  up  Bond  Street  and  St.  James's  ;  where  he  never  wanted 
a  companion  to  laugh  at  his  jokes  or  enjoy  his  conversation  ; 
but  as  to  friends — c'est  toute  autre  chose. 

His  wife  turned  with  a  sigh  to  her  domestic  occupations, 
fully  aware  of  the  difficulties  which  pride  threw  in  the  way 
of  her  husband's  making  any  application  to  his  friends, 
and  of  appearing  a  petitioner  where  he  had  always  hitherto 
been  an  equal.  Yet  she  did  not  blame  him.  She  knew 
his  good  qualities  ;  she  knew  how  difficult  a  task  it  is  for 
the  pride  of  human  nature  to  bend  to  solicitation,  after  it  has 
once  been  used  to  command  ;  and  these  thoughts,  helped  by 
her  extreme  affection,  formed  excuses  for  the  culpable  delay  of 
Lanfflcy. 

Much,  however,  as  she  dreaded  giving  her  husband  offence, 
she  still  revolved  in  her  own  mind  the  possibility  of  an  appli- 
cation to  her  uncle  Admiral  Frankley.  Her  mother  had 
been  his  favourite  sister,  and  though  she  had  excited  his 
anger  by  marrying  Mr.  Palmer  against  the  consent  of 
her  family,  yet  his  affection  for  her  had  been  so  great  in 
her  earlier  life,  that  Mrs.  Langley  thought  it  nearly  impossible 
for  him  entirely  to  discard  her  datighter.  The  papers  had  an* 
nounced  Admiral  Frankley's  return  from  India,  and  Mrs. 
Langley  determined  to  find  some  opportunity  of  addressing 


THE    OXONIAKS.  85 

him,  either  personally  or  by  letter  ;  but  she  knew  that  this  must 
be  done  secretly,  and  without  the  knowledge  of  her  husband  ; 
and  though  upon  any  other  subject  she  would  have  shuddered  at 
acting  contrary  to  his  wishes,  yet  on  the  present  occasion  she 
felt  it  to  be  her  duty  to  attempt  the  reparation  of  her  husband's 
fortunes,  even  by  means  which  he  would  disapprove. 

She  had  herself  too  great  an  idea  of  the  miseries  of  depend- 
ence not  to  make  some  allowance  for  the  pride  of  her  hus- 
band ;  and  she  felt  by  anticipation  the  pleasure  that  would 
be  hers,  should  her  assistance  ever  help  to  relieve  their  present 
difficulties. 

But  we  must  leave  Mrs.  Langley  to  her  ruminations,  and 
Langley  to  his  clubs,  to  turn  our  attention  to  some  of  the  more 
active  personages  of  our  drama. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

lOiSDON   LIFE. 

Steicard. — Be  patient,  madam,  you  may  have  your  pleasure. 
Aretina. — 'Tis  that  I  came  to  town  for. 

Barnwell. — Have  I  not  obey'd — changed  a  calm  and  retired  life 
For  this  wild  town,  composed  of  noise  and  change." 

Shirley 

Lady  Orville  was  not  a  woman  to  undertake  the  charge  of 
bringing  out  a  young  lady  without  some  ulterior  views  ;  for 
her  house  was  always  too  attractive  to  the  world  at  large  to  re- 
(juire  the  additional  motive  of  a  new  person,  or  a  great  heiress 
as  an  inmate. 

Orville  House  was  conducted  upon  too  extensive  a 
scale  to  exhibit  in  the  morning  any  traces  of  the  numerous 
assembly  which  had  graced  its  saloons  the  previous 
evening.  Every  servant  was  at  his  post;  every  room  in  the 
same  order ;  all  the  nick-knackeries  of  fashion  and  virtue 
arranged  precisely  in  their  ordinary  places  ;  and  long  before 
the  inmates  had  quitted  their  beds,  the  mansion  had  resumed 
its  usual  appearance.  One  of  these  inmates  was  the  only 
person  who  exhibited  in  her  languid  countenance,  the  absence 
of  sleep,  and  the  ennui,  that  perpetual  accompaniment  of  sub- 
siding excitement ;  and  this  was  Emily  Hartley.     Unused  to 

Vol.  1-8 


86  THE    OXOMANS. 

scenes  of  such  gayety  and  bustle  ;  unaccustomed  to  any  thing 
but  the  domestic  hours  and  occupations  of  Hartley  Grove  ;  her 
little  head  had  been  bewildered  by  the  numbers,  and  almost 
turned  by  the  flattering  attention  she  had  received.  During 
the  continuance  of  the  party,  she  almost  imagined  herself  in 
fairy  land  ;  the  brilliance  of  the  lights,  the  splendour  of  the 
apartments,  the  excellence  of  the  music,  of  which  she  was 
passionately  fond,  together  with  the  admiration  she  had  evi- 
dently excited,  had  altogether  bewildered  her  young  imagina- 
tion, and  made  her  for  the  moment  think  that  ail  her  anticipa- 
tions of  delight  had  been  realized. 

Her  hand  had  been  sought  for  quadrilles  by  all  the  men 
of  fashion  who  condescended  to  dance  ;  and  in  high  society, 
as  well  as  that  of  a  more  humble  cast,  this  is  a  matter  of  more 
concern  to  them,  than  ladies  are  generally  willing  to  admit. 
Between  the  dances,  she  had  rested  herself  in  the  music-room, 
listening  to  the  best  airs  of  Mozart  and  Rossini,  sung  by  the 
most  celebrated  singers  of  the  day. 

What  a  contrast  between  the  tranquil  evenings  of  Hartley 
Grove  ;  the  disquisitions  of  Forrester  and  her  father  ;  the 
quiet  conversation  of  her  mother  ;  and  the  saloons  of  Orville 
House,  filled  with  all  the  rank,  fashion,  and  talent  in  the 
country. 

Lord  Orville  too,  the  gay,  the  elegant,  the  fascinating  Orville, 
had  also  paid  her  the  most  sedulous  attention  ;  had  not  only 
actually  danced  with  her  twice,  a  most  uncommon  circum- 
stance with  him,  but  had  acted  as  her  Asmodeus  of  the 
evening,  and  pointed  out  every  body  who  was  worth  knowing 
in  the  rooms  :  and  modern  history  has  been  so  replete  with 
wonderful  events  in  which  our  contemporaries  have  been  actors, 
that  one  scarcely  enters  an  assembly,  in  which  there  arc  not 
many  who  have  been  celebrated  by  their  actions,  and  whose 
names  will  not  shine  in  the  page  of  the  history  of  our  own 
times.  Orville,  however,  did  not  confine  his  observations  and 
anecdotes  to  mere  public  men  ;  he  pointed  out  those  who 
derived  their  celebrity  for  the  lesser  attributes  of  beauty,  fashion, 
or  folly  ;  and  judging  of  Emily's  mind  by  that  of  the  many 
females  whom  he  knew,  he  seasoned  his  anecdotes  with  just 
enoujrh  scandal  and  satire  to  give  them  that  piquancy,  without 
which  the  most  brilliant  conversation  is  ennuyant  to  the  class 
and  tastes  of  many  a  modern  historian  and  reader. 

Such  particular  attention  from  a  man  like  Orville  was  quite 
sufficient  to  bring  Emily  into  notice  ;  and,  added  to  the  at- 
traction of  a  very  beautiful  person,  and  an  entirely  new  face, 


THE   OXONIANS.  87 

it  was  no  wonder  that  she  became  "  the  sensation"  of  the 
evening. 

The  men  inquired,  "  Who  the  lovely  girl  was  to  whom  Or- 
ville  was  so  devoted  ?"  while  the  women  wondered  "  what 
Orville  could  see  in  such  a  country- looking  person,  to  pay  her 
so  much  attention." 

The  gentlemen  declared  her  hair  auburn  :  the  ladies,  that  it 
was  more  inclining  to  red.  Her  blue  eyes  were  declared  quite 
the  ne  plus  ultra  by  the  former ;  by  the  latter  to  be  insipid ; 
the  men  swore  her  fair  complexion  was  lovely  ;  while  the 
women  declared,  there  was  too  much  of  the  *'  milk  and  water" 
of  human  nature  in  it  to  permit  expression. 

But  whatever  might  be  the  secret  opinions  upon  Emily's 
pretensions  to  beauty,  all  the  men  wished  to  dance  with  her, 
and  all  the  women  envied  her  :  nor  were  these  feelings  dimi- 
nished when  it  was  known  that  she  was  the  daughter  of  one  of 
the  oldest  and  most  respectable  families  in  the  country,  and 
the  certain  possessor  of  a  very  large  fortune. 

Seeing  only  the  admiration  slie  excited,  and  dazzled  by  the 
attention  she  received,  no  wonder  that  the  young  and  unso- 
phisticated mind  of  Emily  should  be  delighted.  She  saw  the 
world  merely  on  its  surface,  and  it  was  all  smiles  and  sunshine. 
She  saw  many  eyes  fixed  upon  her,  and  she  perceived  only  the 
admiration  they  expressed,  and  was  totally  unconscious  of  the 
envy  which  she  elicited,  and  though  this  in  many  instances 
forms  more  than  half  of  the  pleasure  of  being  admired,  Emily 
was  not  yet  sufficiently  refined  to  mingle  it  in  her  draught  of 
pleasure.  Indeed,  we  are  not  certain  whether  at  this  period, 
Emily  would  not  have  been  gothic  enough  to  have  permitted 
such  an  idea  to  have  considerably  allayed  the  delight  she 
experienced. 

Although  Emily  had  been  taken  to  several  minor  parties, 
this  had  been  the  first  grand  assembly  at  which  she  had  been 
present ;  and  the  comparison  rendered  all  the  others  insipid. 
This  perhaps  had  arisen  more  from  the  consequence  which 
had  been  given  to  herself  by  all  the  attention  paid  her,  than 
from  any  real  difference.  For  in  the  main,  all  parties  are 
alike,  and  we  derive  more  or  less  pleasure  from  them,  accord- 
ingly as  we  feel  our  own  consequence  more  or  less  diminished 
or  increased  by  the  ocurrences  of  the  evening.  Such  crea- 
tures of  self  are  we  all ! 

The  delight  which  Emily  experienced,  made  her  watch  the 
movements  of  the  large  French  clock,  which  graced  the 
chimney-piece  of  the  saloon,  with  regret.     The  minutes  and 


8u  THE   OXONIANS . 

hours  had  never  passed  so  rapidly  ;  she  could  scarcely  believe 
that  some  other  hand  tlian  that  of  time  liad  not  moved  the 
dial  plate.  But  tumultuous  pleasures  are  great  killers  of  time, 
as  well  as  of  every  thing  else  ;  and  what  had  appeared  as 
minutes  to  Emily,  had  actually  been  so  many  hours  abstracted 
from  the  short  span  of  her  existence. 

It  was  with  a  feeling  of  sorrow  that  she  saw  the  party  dimi- 
nish in  number,  and  guest  after  guest  depart,  till  the  firial  break- 
up of  the  assembly,  by  the  unexpected  appearance  and 
quick  departure  of  Mr.  Woodville,  as  seen  in  a  former 
chapter. 

She  then  sought  her  dressing-room,  where  her  maid,  quite  as 
unaccustomed  as  herself  to  the  bustle  of  a  town  life,  was 
wrapped  in  such  a  profound  sleep  on  the  sofa,  that  she  could 
scarcely  rouse  herself  to  give  the  necessary  attention  to  her 
young  mistress.  The  really  country  wide-mouthed  gapes  with 
which  the  Abigail  entertained  her,  during  the  time  of  her  making 
her  "  toilette  de  nuit,"  communicated  to  Emily  the  first  disposi- 
tion for,  and  thoughts  of  sleep  which  she  had  experienced 
during  the  whole  evening  ;  although  she  had  seen  with  sur- 
prise many  a  gay  personage,  in  the  midst  of  an  apparently 
animated  conversation,  conceal  an  incipient  yawn.  She  was 
not  then  aware  how  soon  such  scenes  pall  upon  the  senses  ; 
how  soon  the  heart  gets  used  to  their  insipidity  ;  and  that  they 
are  only  sought  by  the  many,  merely  to  kill  the  time  which  they 
have  not  sufficient  resources  in  themselves  to  pass  more  profit- 
ably and  more  pleasantly. 

Oil  tiioughtless  time  killers!  how  little  do  you  know  the  va- 
lue of  the  hours  you  are  throwing  away  !  how  little  do  you 
anticipate  the  day  which  comes  too  soon  for  all  of  us,  when 
we  would  sacrifice  our  whole  fortunes  to  the  power  of  recall- 
ing even  a  few  of  those  moments  which  in  their  progress  have 
appeared  so  tedious. 

Emily,  while  in  the  ball-room,  had  thought  sleep  impossible  ; 
she  imagined  that  her  limbs  would  never  tire  in  the  quadrille  ; 
her  mind  never  become  satiated  with  the  scene ;  and  as 
she  first  pressed  her  pillow,  she  thought  she  had  enough  to 
recollect,  and  to  lay  up  in  her  memory,  to  keep  her  awake. 

With  the  excitement,  however,  her  strength  also  passed 
away.  It  was  in  vain  that  she  pictured  to  herself  the  gay 
scene  ;  the  lights  would  burn  dim,  and  the  dancers  become 
shadowy  before  her  closing  eyes,  till  she  sunk  into  a  deep 
though  feverish  slumber,  with  one  of  Orville's  insidious  com- 
pliments half  finished  in  her  failing  memory. 


THE    OXOMANS.  89 

The  next  morning  found  her  unrefreshed,  and  quite  oppressed 
by  that  lassitude,  the  never-failing  consequence  of  over-excite- 
ment. Her  mind  had  lost  its  elasticity  ;  she  no  longer  dwelt 
upon  the  occurrences  of  the  evening  with  the  pleasure  that  she 
had  anticipated  in  her  remembrances  of  them,  and  she  involun- 
tarily drew  a  comparison  between  her  waking  hours  here  at 
mid-day,  and  the  healthful  hilarity  which  had  attended  her 
morning  rising  at  Hartley  Grove.  There  the  lark  was  not 
blither,  and  not  very  often  earlier  than  herself;  there  she  was 
welcomed  by  the  feathered  choristers  of  her  garden,  by  the 
opening  buds  of  flowers  planted  by  her  own  hands,  and  by  the 
smiles  of  protegees  owing  their  existence  and  their  happiness  to 
herself  and  her  family.  Now  the  only  person  she  had  been  accus- 
tomed to  see,  brought  her  coffee,  with  a  face  pale  from  nightly 
watching.  Poor  Mrs.  Tomkins  sunk  much  sooner  under  the 
effect  of  the  London  hours  than  her  mistress,  and,  begin- 
ning by  observing  that  Miss  Emily  "  was  not  at  all  the  moral 
of  what  she  was  in  the  country,"  indulged  herself  in  a  long 
tirade  against  London  dissipation  and  London  servants ;  in- 
deed the  poor  girl,  with  her  primitive  notions,  had  been  such  a 
capital  butt  for  the  exercise  of  the  wit  at  the  second  table,  that 
she  had  enjoyed  no  peace  since  her  arrival ;  and  nothing  but 
her  love  for  her  young  lady  would  have  tempted  her  to  stay  a 
moment  longer  in  a  house  where  much  more  of  the  real "  goings 
on,"  as  Mrs.  Tomkins  called  them,  was  known  to  herself 
than  to  her  mistress.  As  Emily,  however,  became  refreshed 
by  her  coffee,  the  elasticity  of  her  mind  returned,  and  the 
pleasures  of  a  gay  life  again  assumed  their  ascendency  over 
her  imagination. 

The  plans  which  will  be  developed  as  our  history  proceeds, 
had  no  chance  for  success,  while  Emily's  mind  still  remained 
attached  to  the  pursuits  of  the  country,  and  to  the  species  of 
life  she  had  quitted.  The  whole  powers  of  Lady  Orville,  her 
son  and  daughter,  were  therefore  dovoted  to  wean  her  from 
her  early  predilections,  to  cast  a  shade  of  ridicule  over  her 
early  pursuits,  and  to  bestow  upon  the  pleasures  of  a  town 
life  such  a  blazonry  as  would  give  all  the  former  enjoyments 
of  her  existence  no  character  but  that  of  insipidity. 

Mrs.  Tomkins,  in  her  rustic  blunt  way,  had  detailed  that 
Lord  Orville's  servant  had  sworn  to  her  that  his  master  was 
alreday  madly  in  love  with  her  young  mistress.  '*  To  be  sure," 
added  she,  "  there  is  no  wonder  in  that ;  for  I  myself  should 
be  in  love  with  you  if  I  were  a  man,  which  Heaven  forbid 
should  ever  be  the  case,  for  they  have  a  world  of  sin,  the  very 

8* 


90  THE    OXONLVNS. 

best  of  them,  to  carry  to  their  graves.  But  though  Lord  Or- 
ville  is  called  the  finest  man  of  the  day,  I  think  him  no  more 
to  compare  to  Mr.  Forrester,  than  Mounseer  Tripon,  my  lord's 
French  varlet,  is  to  my  Thomas,  your  sweetheart's  hunts- 
man. Oh  how  I  wish  I  could  hear  his  dear  horn,  and  bis  so- 
ho,  so-ho,  again." 

Emily  stopped  the  prating  of  her  waiting-maid  by  dismis- 
sing her  suddenly  with  a  sharp  reprimand  for  having  made 
her  the  subject  of  conversation  in  the  steward's  room ;  and 
poor  Mrs.  Tomkins  retired,  surprised  at  seeing,  for  the  first 
time  in  her  life,  that  her  young  mistress  was  seriously  dis- 
pleased. 

"  Ah  !  it  is  all  along  of  this  smoky  London  air,"  said  she, 
as  she  shut  the  door,  and  cast  an  angry  glance  at  the  foggy'at- 
mosphere  without. 

Her  words,  however,  had  made  a  deeper  impression  than 
Emily  herself  was  willing  to  allow.  The  contrast  between 
the  acquired  elegance  of  Lord  Orville  and  the  rustic  ease 
though  good  manners  of  Forrester,  had  more  than  once  forced 
themselves  upon  her  imagination  ;  and  she  had  several  times 
detected  herself  in  drawing  a  comparison  between  the  fash- 
ionable and  sprightly,  and  sometimes  brilliant  conversation  of 
the  tov/n-bred  peer,  and  the  more  solid,  though  less  striking 
observations  of  a  country  gentleman. 

"  The  finest  man  of  the  day!"  True,  thought  she,  Lord 
Orville  does  indeed  bear  that  character.  "  In  love  with  me  !" 
and  her  vanity,  at  least  for  a  moment,  was  pleased  with  the 
idea.  And  what  woman,  perfect  as  ever  human  nature  will 
permit  her  to  be,  is  without  a  share  of  vanity  ?  "  No — no,  no, 
it  cannot  be  ;"  and  she  paused,  even  in  her  thoughts,  to  debate 
upon  the  possibility  of  such  an  event ;  and  again,  as  s!ie  drew 
a  comparison  between  her  own  rusticity  and  the  manners  of 
the  fashionable  women  to  whose  society  he  had  been  used,  and 
by  whom  he  was  surrounded,  her  humility  set  it  down  as  an 
impossibility.  Still,  however,  she  could  not  drive  the  idea 
from  her  mind,  and  she  w^as  obliged  to  recall  to  her  memory 
that  it  had  only  been  engendered  by  the  prattle  of  a  servant, 
before  she  could  banish  it  entirely. 

At  this  moment  Clara  Dallas,  a  cousin  of  the  Orville  family, 
and  a  ward  of  the  late  Earl's,  entered  the  dressing-room  ;  she 
had  retired  from  the  party  of  the  preceding  evening  much 
earlier  than  Emily,  and  had  therefore  not  broken  so  much  in 
upon  her  day  to  recover  from  its  fiitigues. 

Clara  Dallas  was  one  of  those  few  young  ladies  in  whose 


THE   OXOKIANS.  91 

minds  and  imagination  romance  had  no  place.  Ungifted  by 
nature  with  any  extraordinary  beauty  of  person,  she  was  liked 
by  her  companions,  because  she  never  outshone  them  in  that 
upon  which  women  are  too  apt  to  pride  themselves  ;  and  they 
thought  little  of  that  superior  good  sense  which  she  possessed, 
because  it  seldom  intruded  itself  upon  their  notice  ;  or,  if  ob- 
serve d,  only  excited  their  ridicule. 

Clara  had  no  imagination,  but  she  had  a  fund  of  good  sense. 
She  looked  upon  life  as  a  reality,  and  indulged  herself  in  no 
dreams  of  pleasure  which  did  not  exist ;  but  this  way  of 
looking  at  society  had  given  a  matter-of-fact  frankness  to  her 
conversation,  which  sometimes  destroyed  the  fine  flourishing 
tirades  of  more  brilliant  colloquists. 

She  had  often  been  a  guest  at  Hartley  Grove,  had  conceived 
a  great  affection  for  Emily,  and  had  become  interested  in  the 
character  of  Mr.  Forrester,  which  she  saw  in  all  its  excellence, 
and  knew  well  how  to  appreciate.  Yet,  with' all  this  she  some- 
times feared  that  his  influence  over  so  gay  a  mind  as  Emily's 
might  not  be  sufficient  to  counteract  the  flattery  by  which  she 
was  surrounded  in  the  great  world  to  which  she  had  so  sud- 
denly been  introduced. 

Entering  the  room  in  her  own  quiet  way"  (for  Clara  never 
did  any  thing  in  a  hurry  or  bustle,  and  never  acted  under  ex- 
citement), Emily  did  not  at  first  perceive  her  ;  and  Clara  ac- 
cordingly had  an  opportunity  of  witnessing  the  abstraction  of 
countenance  with  which  her  previous  thoughts  had  beeen  ac- 
companied. 

"  What,  Emily  !"  she  at  length  exclaimed,  and  Emily  started, 
blushing,  as  though  her  thoughts  had  been  words,  and  had  been 
overheard.  "  What,  musing  !  That  looks  rather  suspicious. 
Take  care,  my  dear,  lest  the  influence  of  our  friend  Forrester 
should  be  shaken  by  the  sight  of  our  more  fashionable,  but 
less  praiseworthy  beaux  of  St.  James's." 

"  Oh  1  have  still  the  same  friendship  for  Mr.  Forrester,  I 
assure  you,"  slowly  andblushingly  answered  Emily,  internally 
astonished  at  this  coincidence  between  the  observation  of  Clara 
and  her  own  thoughts. 

"  Friendship  !"  repeated  Clara,  thoughtfully,  and  looking  so 
intently  in  Emily's  face  that  she  turned  her  eyes  away  from  her 
gaze.  "  Ah,  Emily,  beware  how  you  suffer  the  tinsel  glitter 
of  brilliant  talents  and  polished  manners  to  outshine  the  more 
solid,  though  more  modest,  virtues  of  a  good  heart  and  sound 
understanding." 
.    "  Nay  now,  my  dear  Clara,"  replied  Emily,  "  you  are  too- 


92  THE  OXOKIANS. 

severe.  Brilliant  talents  are  not  incompatible  with  virtue,  nor 
does  wit  betray  the  want  of  understanding  ;  neither  are  po- 
lished manners  necessarily  accompanied  by  hypocrisy.  And 
you  must  certainly  acknowledge,  my  dear  matter-of-fact  Clara, 
that  Mr.  Forrester's  manners  and  accomplishments,  excellent 
as  they  are,  can  scarcely  be  put  in  competition  with  the  wit 
and  elegance  by  which  I  am  now  surrounded." 

"  I  will  not  acknowledge  any  such  thing,"  rejoined  Clara. 
"  Edward  Forrester's  modesty  has  little  chance,  it  is  true, 
amid  the  blaze  of  impertinence  which  modern  judgment  has 
dignified  with  the  title  of  wit ;  his  talents  may  not  be  able  to 
cope  with  success  in  fashionable  conversations,  but  they  will 
shine  in  rational  ones  ;  and  that  is  of  much  more  consequence 
to  domestic  happiness." 

"  But  yet  you  must  allow,"  argued  Emily,  "  how  very  many 
are  his  superiors  in  manners  ;  and  manner?,  you  know,  Clara, 
give  a  polish  even  to  trifles.  Now  when  Lord  Orville  enters 
a  room,  or  pays  a  compliment,  or  utters  a  sentence,  there  is  a 

grace  which which "  and  Emily  hesitated  at  finding 

that  she  was  actually  imbodying  those  thoughts  which  she  had 
been  just  now  so  anxious  to  conceal — '*  which  " — she  again  re- 
peated  

"  Which  can  so  dazzle  us  by  its  varnish  that  we  do  not  per- 
ceive the  worthlessness  of  what  it  covers,"  continued  Clara, 
finishing  the  sentence  for  her  friend.  "  Your  candour  betrays 
you  ;  but  beware  how  you  suffer  yourself  to  be  misled  by  the 
glitter  of  an  ignis  fatuus,  in  the  pursuit  of  which  many  have 
lost  their  happiness,  and  more  than  one  their  honour." 

"  You  almost  alarm  me.  Yet  I  do  not  quite  understand 
you,"  exclaimed  Emily,  looking  anxiously  for  an  explanation. 
;<■  "I  wish  to  do  so  ;  I  am  myself  alarmed,  both  for  Forrester 
and  yourself,  at  the  evident  attentions  which  are  paid  you  in  a 
certain  quarter.  My  long  friendship  induces  this  anxiety  for 
your  happiness ;  and  your  hitherto  total  exclusion  from  the 
world  authorizes  me  to  tell  you,  that  Lord  Orville,  under 
the  brilliant  talents  and  the  most  fascinating  manners  con- 
ceals— " 

"  Hush,"  exclaimed  Emily  ;  and  they  both  became  silent  as 
the  door  opened,  and  Lady  Sophia,  his  lordship's  unmarried 
sister,  entered  the  room. 

"  Oh,  my  darling  Emily,"  exclaimed  she  ;  but  stopped  short 
in  her  address,  on  perceiving  Clara's  and  Emily's  anxious 
countenances.  "  Why,  Clara,"  continued  she,  "  what  are  you 
doing  with  my  sweet  pupil  ?    I  sha'n't  suffer  any  of  your  gra- 


THE   OXONIANS.  93 

vities  to  cloud  her  mind,  and  deaden  the  enjoyment  of  her  en- 
trance into  gay  life.  Why,  you've  made  her  pout  already,  I 
declare." 

"  No,  Sophia  ;  but  I  have  been  trying,  I  own,  to  enable  her 
inexperience  to  distinguish  truth  from  the  quantity  of  fiction 
by  which  she  is  surrounded,"  answered  Clara  ;  "however,  I 
now  leave  her  in  the  hands  of  her  more  lively  chaperone.  But, 
my  dear  Emily,  amid  the  brilliancy  of  her  sallies,  do  not  quite 
forget  the  word  of  advice  that  I  have  given  you  ;  and  which, 
if  not  very  palatable,  has  at  least  the  merit  of  being  well  in- 
tended."    And  so  saying,  she  left  the  room. 

Lady  Sopliia  accompanied  her  good  morning  with  a  haughty 
toss  of  the  head,  which  was  unperceived  by  Emily.  She  saw 
in  a  minute,  by  the  countenance  of  the  latter,  that  Clara  had 
been  counteracting  some  of  her  brother's  plots,  and  that  she 
had  most  probably  been  warning  her  against  his  character. 
Imagining  this,  she  determined  to  eradicate  any  impression 
Emily  might  have  imbibed,  before  it  should  obtain  a  deeper 
hold  upon  her  mind. 

"  Poor  Clara,"  said  she,  with  a  sigh :  "  I  really  pity  her  from 
my  soul ;  but  then,  you  know,  young  women  should  not  sur- 
render their  hearts  before  they  are  solicited.  I  dare  say  now 
she  has  been  complaining  to  you  of  the  cruelty  of  my  brother. 
— But  it  is  all  pique — " 

"  Pique!"  exclaimed  Emily. 

"  Oh  yes.  Didn't  you  know  that  she  took  it  into  her  head 
to  think  of  Orville ;  but  finding  him  insensible,  has  almost  hated 
him  ever  since  ?" 

"  Hated  him !"  again  exclaimed  Emily,  as  her  knowledge  of 
Clara's  meek  and  placid  character  rose  to  her  imagination. 

"  Yes,"  reiterated  Lady  Sophia  ;  "  and  you  know  Zara  says, 

'Heaven  has  no  rage  like  love  to  hatred  turn'd, 
Nor  hell  a  fury  like  a  woman  scorn'd  ;' 

and  you  know  poets  always  tell  truth." 

"  This,  then,"  thought  Emily,  "  accounts  for  her  advice ;  and 
I  need  not  alarm  myself." 

"  But  away  with  the  splenetic  lessons  of  Clara,"  continued 
Lady  Sophia,  "  which  always  fall  like  a  lump  of  lead  upon  the 
quicksilver  of  my  spirits.     What  think  you  of  our  party  last 
night  ?" 
'     "Oh,  delightful!" 

**  Such  a  squeeze  ;  wasn't  it  ?  Sir  Scamper  Tandem  swore 
he  could  get  no  farther  than  the  first  landing  ;  my  poor  beau 


94  THE   OXOJIIANS. 

Shatterham  absolutely  stuck  in  the  hall ;  young  Twiselton  was 
cooled  after  the  first  quadrille  by  a  pine-apple  ice  that  was 
tossed  into  his  cambric-covered  bosom  by  the  old  Lord  Adling- 
ton  ;  and  the  Duichess  of  Crambo's  magnificent  brocade,  just 
imported  from  Genoa,  was  entirely  spoiled  by  a  glass  of  cham- 
paigne  which  Sir  Peter  Dashley  poured  over  her  instead  of 
into  his  own  capacious  stomach. — But  here — here's  a  list  of 
engagements  for  you — " 

"For  me  I"  exclaimed  Emily. 

"  Oh  yes  ;  a  whole  pack  of  cards,  I  declare.  Why,  my 
dear,  you're  a  novelty,  and  have  absolutely  created  a  sensation. 
I  quite  envy  you  (and  here  Lady  Sophia  spoke  truth), 
Wherever  you  go,  '  Who  is  she  ?'  will  be  buzzed  in  your 
ears  from  a  thousand  different  quarters ;  and  you  will  have 
the  pleasure  of  hearing  yourself  described  as  a  most  intimate 
acquaintance  by  a  thousaad  puppies,  who  never  set  eyes  on 
you  before." 

"  But  from  whom  are  these  cards  ?"  inquired  Emily. 

*'  Oh  from  a  hundred  kind  friends  who  never  saw  you  before 
in  their  lives.  Here's  Lady  Altingham's  routs  for  Mondays  ; 
the  Comtessa  Paulina's  opera  suppers  for  Tuesdays  ;  the  Ho- 
nourable Mrs.  Dashwood's  concerts  for  Wednesdays  ;  the  old 
Marquis  of  Eatington's  dinners  for  Thursdays  ;  the  Dutchess 
of  Langton's  quadrilles  for  Fridays  ;  Mrs.  Von  Brummel's 
early  at  homes  for  Saturdays  ;  and  the  Countess  of  Chatterton's 
conversazioni  for  Sundays  ;  that  being  a  day  on  which  it  is 
deemed  that  all  innocent  amusements  shall  cease,  excepting 
cards  and  scandal." 

"  Bless  me,  my  dear  Lady  Sophia  !  why  I  shall  be  killed — " 

"  Killed  ?"  repeated  Lady  Sophia.  "  Oh  no,  my  dear.  It 
takes  a  great  deal  of  dissipation  to  kill  a  woman  :  at  least  if 
one  may  judge  from  the  manner  in  which  it  agrees  with  so  many 
of  our  dowagers,  who  have  not  only  served  an  apprenticeship, 
but  devoted  a  whole  life  to  its  pursuit.  But  these  are  only  the 
regulars ;  we  have  fifty  supernumerary  parties  on  the  list. 
To-day,  for  instance,  we  have  a  dinner  at  the  Honourable  Mr. 
Rattall's,  M.P.  and  reformist ;  who,  during  the  war,  railed  at 
our  enemies  in  the  Senate,  while  he  added  to  their  revenue  by 
getting  tipsy  with  t'.ieir  wines  in  his  dining-parlour  ;  who  ap- 
peared a  patriot  in  his  eloquence  abroad,  while  he  was  any 
thing  but  patriotic  in  his  pursuits  at  home.  There,  the  wines 
of  our  foes  sparkled  upon  his  table,  while  those  of  our  allies 
were  banished  to  his  sideboard  and  his  steward's  room  ;  and 
the  humble,  though  hearty  beverage  of  old  England  was  con- 
fined to  the  kitchen  and  the  cellar.     He  is  perpetually  roar- 


THE  OXONIANS.  95 

ing  out  for  liberty  abroad,  while  poor  Mrs.  Rattall  and  her 
family  are  never  permitted  to  enjoy  a  particle  of  it  at  home." 

"  Upon  my  word,  I  begin  to  think  Clara  right  in  warning  me 
against  your  powers  of  invention,"  said  Emily,  laughing  at  her 
spirits  and  volubility. 

"  Not  at  all,  my  dear  Emily.  But  you  will  judge  for  your- 
self. There  will  be  our  host,  supported  on  either  side  by  peers, 
peeresses,  and  messieurs,  and  mesdames,  M.P.'s — for  I  assure 
you,  the  wives  seem  to  think  themselves  quite  as  much  in  Par- 
liament as  their  husbands.  There,  all  swallow  the  good  things 
presented  to  their  lips  without  paying  much  attention  to  those 
that  are  intended  for  their  ears.  You  will  hear  Mr.  Rattall 
one  moment  say, '  Liberty  of  speech  is  every  thing  ;'  while  the 
next  moment  he  cuts  his  wife  short  with,  '  Really,  Mrs.  Rattall, 
I  must  insist  on  your  keeping  your  arguments  upon  this  sub- 
ject to  yourself,'  and  so  on.  Well  then,  to-morrow,  old  Lady 
Vizard  sees  her  friends  in  pasteboard." 

"In  pasteboard  ?"  exclaimed  Emily,  with  surprise,  and  with 
an  inquiring  look. 

*'  Yes,"  replied  Sophia.  *'  In  other  words,  she  sees  masks 
for  the  benefit  of  many  of  her  friends  who  are  ashamed  to 
show  their  faces." 

"I  shall  then, indeed,  be  pleased,"  said  Emily  ;  '« for  I  have 
always  wished  to  see  a  masquerade,  and  shall  be  delighted  to 
see  the  characters  well  supported." 

"  Oh  !  my  dear  innocent,  you  were  never  more  mistaken  in 
your  life  than  in  such  an  expectation.  It  is  too  much  trouble 
for  many  of  them  to  support  their  own  characters,  and  they 
seldom  meddle  with  those  of  other  people,  excepting  to  take 
them  away.  A  modern  masquerade  is  merely  a  squeeze  of 
dominos  that  mean  nothing,  and  characters  that  don't  know 
what  they  mean  ;  such  a  crowd  of  harlequins  without  agility, 
nuns  without  devotion,  Minervas  without  wisdom,  and  Venuses 
devoid  of  beauty,  that  you  will  be  quite  delighted,  and  have  the 
pleasure  of  teazing  your  dearest  friends  and  nearest  relations 
with  the  chance  of  remaining  undiscovered." 

"  Very  delightful,  truly,"  observed  Emily. 

•'  But  fancy  balls  are  the  rage  now,  and  masquerades  are  ex- 
ploded ;  none  but  such  an  old  dowager  as  Lady  Vizard  would 
think  of  giving  one.     The  poor  old  lady  remembers  what  they 

were  twenty  years  ago,  when,  it  is  said but  I  will  not  be 

scandalous,  at  any  rate  upon  people  whose  age  leaves  them  no 
chance  for  any  thing  but  repentance. 

Emily  shrank  like  a  sensitive  leaf  from  this  last  observation 


96  THE    OXO>TASS. 

of  her  lively  companion,  but  hesitatingly  said,  "  Well,  then,  I 
think  I  shall  like  the  conversazioni  best  after  all.  There,  at 
any  rate,  amusement  will  be  blended  with  instruction." 

"  Instruction  !  Oh,  you  delicious  novice ;  instruction !  Truo, 
you  may  hear  from  tlic  men  a  discussion  of  tlie  chances  for  the 
next  St.  Leger  or  Derby  ;  and  from  the  women,  the  compara- 
tive merits  of  an  imbecille  and  sedulsante ;  or  which  of  these 
abominable  excrescences  is  the  fittest  for  the  morning  or  the 
evening.  Old  Lord  Lumber-Court  will  tell  you  the  precise 
way  to  curry  a  lobster,  and  Charles  Huntley  the  best  method  of 
currying  a  horse.  If  any  body  speaks  of  wit,  criticism,  or 
literature.  Sir  Frederic  Tandem  interrupts  him  with  an  essay  on 
horsemanship,  and  speaks  of  his  whlppery,  as  he  calls  it,  as  u 
natural  historian  would  of  his  zoological  or  mineralogical  col- 
lection :  while  Lady  Trippington  indulges  herself  with  a  dis- 
sertation on  quadrilles,  lauds  Collinet's  10 1st  set  to  the  skies, 
and  praises  ihepas  de  chasse  and  pa*  de  zephyr,  without  shrink- 
ing from  the  faux  pas  which  certain  little  inuendosand  initials 
in  the  newspapers  attributed  to  her  last  season.  But  come, 
you  look  grave,  tired,  I  dare  say,  with  my  rattle  ;  so  go  to  your 
toilet.  The  horses  will  be  here  in  half  an  hour ;  and  with 
Orville  and  myself  you  shall  gallop  away  the  blue  devils  in  the 
Park."  And  away  ran  the  rattling  Lady  Sophia,  leaving 
Emily  bewildered  by  her  volubility,  and  scarcely  knowing 
whet  her  to  laugh  or  look  grave  at  what  certainly  contained 
much  amusement,  though  mingled  with  sentiments  and  allu- 
sions, from  which  the  innate  delicacy  of  Emily's  mind  shrank 
with  a  feeling  of  disgust.  She  could  join  Lady  Sophia  in  her 
laugh  at  the  follies  of  the  world  of  both  sexes  ;  but  to  hear  any 
deviations  from  the  right  path  by  her  own,  treated  with  levity, 
and  made  the  subject  of  amusement  by  a  young  lady,  filled  her 
with  astonishment ;  and  it  required  all  the  goodness  of  Emily's 
nature  to  find  an  apology  for  this  in  the  violent  animal  spirits 
of  Lady  Sophia  Orville. 

Lady  So])hia  was  one  of  those  young  women  who  has  early 
given  unbridled  license  to  conversation  :  cried  up  on  her 
coming  out  as  a  wit,  she  frightened  the  men  from  proposals 
which  might  otherwise  have  been  made  for  her ;  till  disap- 
pointed at  seeing  companions  with  less  pretensions  forming 
splendid  establishments,  while  she  remained  Lady  Sophia 
Orville,  the  bitterness  of  her  nature  gave  its  predominance  to 
her  character,  and  she  became  the  satirist  of  vice  and  folly, 
without  imbibing  a  just  contempt  for  the  odc,  or  a  proper 
horror  of  the  other. 


ItlE   OXONIANS.  \)1 

Vice  and  folly,  however,  were  not  the  only  objects  of  her  satire 
The  virtues  of  domestic  life  were  quite  as  much  subjects  fov 
her  ridicule  as  the  profligacy  which  destroyed  them  ;  and  she 
looked  upon  the  woman  who  devoted  herself  to  what  she  de- 
nominated the  domestic  drudgery  of  the  "household  gods," 
merely  as  the  slave  of  her  husband  and  of  prejudice.  Edu- 
cated without  the  benefit  of  example  as  well  as  precept ; 
thrown  very  early  into  one  of  those  fashionable  establishments 
then  in  vogue  for  the  tuition  of  young  women  ;  a  young  and 
strong  mind  had  been  suffered  to  form  itself ;  and  a  variety  of 
desultory  reading,  without  the  power  to  discriminate,  had  pro- 
duced the  effect  of  giving  her  great  ideas  of  her  own  judg- 
ment, and  great  contempt  for  the  opinions  of  others. 

When,  therefore,  she  had  no  game  to  play,  and  gave  way  to 
the  natural  bent  of  her  disposition,  she  became  the  disputatious 
dasher,  dictating  laws  to  her  little  circle,  astonishing  every  one 
with  the  boldness  of  her  remarks,  and  frequently  disgusting  the 
most  sensible  of  her  hearers  by  sentiments  in  morals  and  reli- 
gion, that  were  any  thing  rather  than  those  which  should  have 
emanated  from  a  young  female. 

Lady  Sophia  loved  to  astonish,  and  cared  very  little  how 
much  she  displeased,  unless  she  had  an  object  in  view  ;  and 
then  Lady  Sophia  could  veil  her  real  character  with  the  success 
of  the  most  experienced  hypocrisy.  She  could  be  in  ap 
pearance  as  exclusive  and  feminine,  as  she  was  in  reality 
masculine  and  familiar,  could  freeze  by  her  silence  as  well  as* 
astonish  by  her  effrontery  ;  and  when  she  wished  it,  could  gairt 
lier  object  as  well  by  insinuation,  as  on  ether  occasions  she 
could  take  it  by  storm. 

With  all  this  she  was  greatly  the  fashion  ;  those  who  did  not 
admire  her  feared  her  ;  to  be  ranked  among  her  intimates  was 
the  desire  of  most  of  those  who  frequented  Orville  House. 
Every  man  was  delighted  to  dance  with  her,  to  flirt  with  her,  to 
^>and  her  to  her  carriage,  to  do  every  thing,  but — marry  her 


Vol.  l.—d 


98  THE   OXONIANS. 


CHAPTER  XITI. 

A   CHABACTEK. 

— —  She  that  had  renounced 

Her  sex's  honour,  was  herself  renounced 
By  all  that  prizd  it ;  not  for  prudery's  sake, 
But  dignity's,  resentful  of  the  wrong. 

COWPER. 

The  Countess  of  Orville,  whenever  she  found  those  high 
passions  which  had  been  the  bane  of  her  life  breaking  through 
the  bounds  within  which  she  had  generally  the  power  to  pre- 
serve them  in  public  ;  retired  to  the  solitude  of  her  own 
boudoir,  until  she  could  smooth  her  ruffled  brow,  and  redress 
her  face,  in  those  bland  smiles  which  gave  such  youthful  grace 
to  her  matronly  beauty,  and  which  persuaded  indifferent  be- 
holders that  she  was  one  of  the  best  tempered,  as  well  as  one 
of  the  happiest  women  in  the  world.  And  who  that  saw  her 
bright  eyes  sparkling  with  pleasure,  her  face  clothed  in  smiles, 
and  heard  the  softness  of  her  voice  uttering  the  best  sentiments 
of  human  nature  in  the  most  elegant  language,  would  have  ima- 
gined Lady  Orville  to  be  the  woman  she  really  was ;  or  have 
thought  that  such  a  woman  could  realize  Voltaire's  descrip- 
tion of 

"  Le  ciel  est  dans  ses  yeux ;  I'enfer  est  dans  son  coeur.' 

It  was  nevertheless  but  too  true. 

In  the  solitude  of  this  boudoir  she  revolved  all  those  schemes 
and  plans  of  which  her  life  had  been  one  continued  series. 
Love,  ambition,  hatred,  and  revenge  had  all  by  turns  swayed 
the  soul  of  this  violent  women  by  their  influence  ;  and  they 
were  all  equally  fatal  to  the  peace  of  the  object  by  whom  they 
were  excited,  or  by  wliom  they  were  to  be  gratified. 

As  a  wife,  she  had  been  paramount  over  the  weak  Earl 
whom  her  ambitiutt  had  selected  for  her  husband  ;  as  a  mother, 
3he  only  looked  to  the  increase  of  her  own  power  by  the 
splendid  establishment  of  her  children  ;  and  as  a  woman,  she 
gave  unbridled  license  and  indulgence  to  any  and  to  every 
passion  by  which  she  was  by  turns  influenced. 


THE    OXOWIANS.  99 

Lady  Olivia  Tressel,  her  youngest  daughter,  had  been 
sacrificed  at  the  shrine  of  the  immense  wealth  of  a  dilapidated 
Nabob,  who  brought  over  millions  of  rupees  from  Calcutta,  to 
render  his  jaundiced  countenance  and  broken  constitution 
more  palatable  to  any  woman  who  might  be  purchased  to 
share  his  fortune  and  his  bed  :  and  Lady  Olivia  had  been  lite- 
rally purchased,  since  a  portion  of  the  gold  for  which  she  bad 
been  sacrificed  was  devoted  to  the  payment  of  certain  heavy 
mortgages  which  had  for  a  long  period  of  years  weighed  down 
the  Orville  estates.  It  itquired,  however,  all  the  arts  of  Lady 
Orville  as  a  woman,  and  all  her  influence  as  a  mother,  to  ac- 
complish this  sacrifice.  Tears,  threats,  entreaties,  represen- 
tations, and  misrepresentations  were  pressed  into  the  service 
by  mother,  brother,  and  sister,  till  at  length,  hopeless  of  ever 
marrying  the  only  man  she  loved,  who  had  no  other  recom« 
mendation  than  an  elegant  person  and  fascinating  manners, 
Lady  Olivia  gave  a  sullen  consent,  and  became  the  unwilling 
and  discontented  bride  of  the  tropical  Mr.  Tressel. 

The  other  children  had  imbibed  too  much  of  the  mother's 
character  to  be  so  easil\  led  from  their  inclinations  ;  but  as 
there  was  no  lack  of  ambition  in  either  of  them,  and  a  plentiful 
sprinkling  of  pride  in  both  their  dispositions,  it  was  not  likely 
that  either  the  one  or  the  other  would  form  establishments 
which  would  be  displeasing  to  her. 

Much,  however,  as  Lady  Orville  was  devoted  to,  and  much 
as  she  seemed  to  court,  the  world,  she  internally  despised  that 
public  opinion  by  which  she  regulated  her  outward  conduct ; 
and  detested  those  trammels  of  society  which  condemned  her 
to  keep  her  fiery  passions  within  the  limits  of  apparent  pro- 
priety, or   to  sacrifice  the  privileges  of  her  rank  and  station. 

These  had,  more  than  once  during  her  career,  been  in 
imminent  dancrer  of  being  forfeited  ;  and  had  only  been  pre- 
served by  consummate  art  and  unabashed  effrontery. 

While  mat  y  a  more  innocent  woman  than  Lady  Orville  had 
been  "  whistled  down  the  wind"  by  the  scorn  of  a  misjudging 
and  unfeeling  world,  for  a  single  fault  (the  result,  perhaps, 
of  man's  perfidy  and  woman's  credulity).  Lady  Orville,  with 
a  hundred  more  flagrant  sins  upon  her  conscience,  still  main- 
tained her  st'ition,  still  joined  the  crowd  in  its  contempt  for  the 
fallen  of  her  sex,  while  the  only  circumstance  that  rendered 
them  the  object  either  of  her  anger  or  her  pity,  was  their  being 
"found  out." 

Concealment  was  the  only  virtue  she  acknowledged  ;  pas- 
sions might  be  indulged,  and  inclinations  gratified  so  long  as 


100  THE   0X05IAXS. 

the  world  knew  nothing  of  the  matter.  Her  code  morale  con 
sisted  in  their  not  being  discovered  ;  and  I  am  afiaid  to  think 
in  how  many  minds  it  is  not  the  fear  of  the  sin,  but  of  its  con- 
sequences, that  preserves  from  its  commission. 

Lady  OrvilleV  life  was,  therefore,  one  continued  masquerade, 
one  perpetual  system  of  self-indulgence,  and  of  schemes  for 
its  concealment.  There  was  but  one  person  in  the  world  to 
whom  she  ever  threw  away  the  mask,  and  gave  a  loose  to  the 
real  sentiments  of  her  soul.  This  was  the  xMarchesa  di  Vil- 
lanai,  an  English  divorcee,  married  to  a  Florentine  nobleman. 
Caroline  Delmar  and  the  Countess  had  been  school-fellows., 
and  a  congeniality  of  disposition  had  made  tliem  friends. 

They  had  both  been  married  at  the  same  time  to  men  they 
neither  of  them  loved.  In  the  fulness  of  feniiile  confidence 
this  natural  disinclination  to  their  husbands  did  not  long  remain 
aeecret,  any  more  than  the  results,  which  were  the  too  natural 
consequence  of  passions  so  ill  regulated  as  theirs ;  and  to 
minds  in  wijicl-  there  had  been  no  pains  to  instil  those  prin- 
ciples of  rectitude  which  can  only  exist  upon  a  sure  basis,  when 
Ihey  are  founded  upon  the  sentiments  of  religion. 

Her  friend,  however,  cither  did  not  possess  the  art  of  the 
Countess,  or  despised  the  concealment  which  was  the  preser- 
vation of  Lady  Orville.  She  set  the  world  at  defiance  by 
eloping  with  her  paramour  ;  a  divorce  was  the  consequence  ; 
but  flying  to  the  shelter  of  the  more  lenient  morals  of  the  Con- 
tinent, she  contrived  to  get  into  good  society,  and,  deserted  by 
the  min  for  whom  she  had  sacrificed  her  good  name,  her  for- 
tune, which  was  in  her  own  right,  tempted  a  needy  Italian 
Marquis  to  give  her  irregularities  the  countenance  of  bis  name- 
and  to  the  cast  ofT-mistress,  the  title  of  his  wife. 

Lady  Orville,  the  moment  that  intrigue  became  public,  of 
which  she  had  long  been  the  confidant  in  private,  was  among 
the  first  and  most  vehement  of  the  many  declaimers  against 
{he  unfortunate  and  guilty  culprit,  whose  only  difference  from 
the  Countess  was,  the  being  a  more  honest  sinner  than  herself. 

But  though  she  blamed  her  in  the  world  for  the  crime,  she 
upbraided  her  in  private  only  for  the  expose,  which  might  so 
easily  have  been  avoided  by  the  exertion  of  a  little  prudence. 
With  these  sentiments,  although  she  could  not  publicly  ac- 
knowledge Caroline  still  as  a  friend,  she  yet  saw  her  in  secret, 
while  she  remained  in  England,  and  kept  up  an  occasional  and 
not  ujifrequent  correspondence  with  her  on  the  Continent.  It 
was  in  these  letters  only  that  Lady  Orville  ventured  to  be  her- 
self, and  at  this  mpineut  she  found  a  relief  from  her  present 


THE   OXONIANS.  101 

t'eelings,  by  unbosoming  herself  to  her  friend  in  the  following 
letter : 

THE  COUNTESS  OP  OiwVILLE  TO  THE  MARCHESA  M  VILLANAI. 

Once  more,  Caroline,  do  T  take  up  my  pen  to  address  you, 
OT  rather  to  reheve  myself,  by  throwing  off  the  mask  which 
all  these  little  trammels  of  society  compel  me  to  wear,  and 
once  more  at  least  to  be  myself  Oh,  how  tedious,  how  heart- 
wearing  is  this  thraldom  of  life  !  what  misery  to  be  always 
thus  a  hypocrite.  I  really  am  half  inclmed  to  envy  you  that 
daring  spirit  which  enabled  you  to  burst  these  chains  asunder^ 
and  fly  to  the  enjoyment  of  your  own  opinions  and  freedom,  in 
the  more  lenif  nt  and  less  fastidious  circles  of  your  dear  Italy. 
And  after  all  what  did  you  give  up  ?  merely  an  endless  routine 
of  chilling  forms  and  ceremonies,  at  which  we  laughed  in 
private,  although  we  pretended  to  respect  them  in  public  ; 
merely  that  friendship  and  opinion  of  the  "  thousand  and  one,'* 
whose  imbecility  we  despised  ;  and  that  caste  in  society  here, 
which  good  fortune,  your  superior  genius,  and  a  convenient 
husband  has  procured  for  you  elsewhere. 

It  was  certainly  a  fiery  ordeal  to  pass  through  at  first,  but  by 
one  great  sacrifice  you  have  purchased  freedom.  What  could 
a  Roman  do  more  ?  To  be  sure,  the  man  for  whom  you  made 
this  sacrifice  of  name  and  character,  and  all  that  to  which  the 
fiat  of  the  silly  world  has  given  but  a  false  estimation,  deserted 
you  ;  first  tempted  and  then  quitted  you  ;  vowed  endless  love  and 
perpetul  fidelity,  and  finished  his  eternity  in  a  month.  Oh  ? 
these  men,  respected  amid  the  indulgence  of  their  unruly  pas- 
sions, they  call  ours  into  play  by  their  sweet  words  "false  as 
dicer's  oaths,"and  then  desert  and  despise  us  for  the  very  creduli- 
ty which  has  given  them  their  power.  Ought  we  to  be  blamed 
for  deceiving  them  ?  Husbands,  brothers,  fathers,  where  is  there 
one  of  them  that  has  not  been  a  betrayer  in  his  time  ?  Yet  they 
move  on  unblushingly !  and  win  their  way  in  the  world  with  hon- 
our through  a  thousand  acts,  each  one  of  which  would  cast  a 
poor  woman  out  of  the  pale  of  society  for  ever.  And  are  we  to 
be  blamed  for  deceiving  them  ?  for  deceiving  those  whose 
greatest  triumph  is  our  fall ;  whose  lists  of  conquests  are  made 
up  of  our  shame  ;  and  who  build  their  celebrity  upon  our  weak- 
ness ?  No,  no,  no ;  early  circumstances,  as  you  are  aware,  gave 
me  a  long  and  bitter  account  against  them  ;  and  the  longesl 
life  bestowed  upon  a  woman  would  not  enable  me  to  balance 
it  by  the  infliction  of  the  half  that  I  have  endured. 

9* 


1Q2  THE   OXONIANS. 

Oh,  Arlington,  what  a  different  existence  might  I  have 
passed,  had  I  never  known  you  !  or  had  you  been  faithful  to 
those  early  vows  which  first  called  my  heart  and  paissions  into 
existence !  Yet,  what  am  I  saying  ?  had  that  been  the  case,  I 
might  have  turned  into  one  of  those  very  dull  domestic  drudges 
of  their  husbands'  wills,  who  are  now  the  subjects  of  our  ridi- 
cule :  what  a  crowd  of  ideas  has  not  the  mention  of  that  name 
recalled  !  our  school-days,  our  vacations,  our  coming  out,  and 
ill  the  thousand  circumstances  of  childhood,  rise  to  my  imagi- 
nation. Oh,  those  days  of  innocence  !  yet  were  they  happy  ? 
But  I  have  been  revenged — if  not  upon  him.  upon  the  rest  of 
his  perfidious  sex,  for  his  sake ;  and  he,  you  know,  is  self-banished 
from  the  influence  of  my  power.  It  is  strange  you  should 
never  have  crossed  him  in  Italy  ;  for  there  they  say  he  lives 
under  some  assumed  name — but  to  my  plans,  in  which  his 
name,  if  not  himself,  is  involved. 

You  know  how  many  years  an  old  school-fellow,  Lady  Emily 
Hartley,  has  been  immured  in  the  country.     Well,  like  myself, 
ahe  is  now  the  mother    of   children    grown  into    man  and 
womanhood.     It  is  really  frightful,  my  dear,  to  think  how  time 
passes,  and  what  events  it  brings  about.     I  have  always  kept 
up  my  connexion  with  her  by  an  annual  visit  to  the  Grove  ai 
Christmas  :  at  first,  I  confess  with  a  little  malice  in  my  inten- 
tion, for  I  found  it  difficult  to  bear  the  sight  of  her  continued 
happiness  ;  and  thinkrng  perhaps  the  draught  of  life  might 
prove  too  sweet  for  her,  I  confess  to  having  tried  to  squeeze  a 
tittle  acid  into  it,  by  attempting  to  get  up  a  flirtation  with  her 
♦lusband,  who  is  really  a  very  sensible  creature,  and  was  ren- 
dered quite  piquant  by  the  novelty  of  his  honesty  and  straight- 
forwardness.    But,  would  you  believe  it,  I  found  the  dolt  as 
insensible  to  my  coquetry,  as  I  did  his  wife  free  from   the 
slightest  particle  of  jealousy.     I  hardly  dare  acknowledge  to 
you  that  an  almost  involuntary  feeling  of  respect  stole  over  me 
13  I  found  myself  forced  to  give  up  my  little  innocent  scheme  ; 
from  which,  however,  I  promised  myself  nothing  more  than  a 
month's  amusement,  and  the  hope  of  a  periodical  annual  flir- 
tation '^pour  passer  le  temps''^  in  the  dull  Christmas  holy- 
days. 

Yet,  as  I  have  looked  upon  the  quiet  happiness  of  our  old 
school-fellow,  and  found  the  idea  of  wedded  comfort  to  be  not 
<|uite  chimerical  ;  I  have  been  sometimes  tempted  to  feel  with 
Hume,  and  to  wish  that  *'  I  too  had  never  doubted."  But  this 
is  folly.  The  smooth  and  quiet  tenor  of  her  life  would  never 
have  suited  such  souls  as  ours.     To  spend  one's  days  in  on** 


THE   OXONIANS.  i«^, 

dull  routine  of  rustic  employments ;  to  doze  through  ten 
months  of  the  year  without  seeing  a  presentable  person — 
no,  no — As  Shirley  says, 

I  would  not  again  endure  the  country  conversation 
To  be  the  Lady  of  six  shires !     The  men, 
So  near  the  primitive  making,  they  retain 
A  sense  of  nothing  but  the  earth;  their  brains 
And  barren  heads  standing  as  much  in  want 
Of  ploughing  as  their  ground. 

Yet  with  such  a  circle  has  Lady  Emily  Hartley  continued  t© 
pass  through  existence  ;  to  be  spoken  of  highly  in  all  circlet^ 
and  under  all  circumstances  :  and  to  preserve  all  the  influence 
which  her  rank  in  society  ought  to  command. 

Failing  in  my  flirtation  scheme,  1  have  formed  others  more 
consequential,  and  perhaps  more  legitimate  ;  and  these  are 
to  unite  my  children  with  theirs.  Their  son  has  just  quitted 
college.  He  is  heir  to  fifteen  thousand  per  annum  from  hie 
father,  and  is,  you  know,  also  presumptive  successor  to  the  title 
and  estates  of  Arlington.  I  will  not  conceal  from  you  that 
there  is  a  feeling  of  revenge  upon  that  heartless  man  mingled 
in  my  desire  for  this  match  ;  for  I  know  nothing  would  give 
Lord  Arlington  a  more  bitter  feeling  than  that  a  child  of  mine 
should  bear  the  title  which  he  once  led  her  mother  to  expecf 
was  to  be  heis  ;  and  that  my  daughter  should  reign  in  those 
halls  of  \\  hich  he  once  pledged  himself  that  her  mother  should 
be  the  mistress. 

Their  daughter  T  intend  for  Orville.  She  will  have  an  im- 
mense fortune,  and  the  influence  of  the  Hartley  family  once 
under  my  guidance,  may  raise  him  to  the  first  offices  of  the 
state. 

Such  are  my  present  schemes,  of  which  none  are  of  course, 
aware,  excepting  Orville  and  Sophia  ;  but  I  have  so  far  suc- 
ceeded as  to  have  brought  Emily  Hartley  up  to  pass  her  first 
winter  in  London  with  me,  when  I  trust  Orville,  with  a  little 
of  my  assistance,  will  soon  eradicate  the  evils  of  her  country 
education,  and  efiace  an  impression  which  a  very  good  sort  of 
man,  of  the  name  of  Forrester,  has  contrived  to  make  upoB 
her  young  heart. 

Young  Hartley  I  have  turned  entirely  over  to  Orville  and 
his  sister.  When  I  first  saw  him  I  had  some  intentions  of 
trying  if  I  could  prove  more  successful  with  the  son  than  with 
the  father.  There  is  a  manliness  in  his  character,  and  a 
naivete  about  the  nature  of  the  creature,  that  would  have  given 


104  THE   OXONIANS. 

an  affair  with  hira,  at  any  rate,  the  zest  of  novelty ;  lor  one  it 
really  fatigued  with  the  use  hearts  one  generally  meets  with  in 
society,  and  tired  of  those  who  pursue  the  mere  turnpike  roads 
of  pleasure  exactly  according  to  the  regular  rules  of  passion- 
less intrigue,  and  never  venture  oui  of  the  beaten  track. — 
Fearful,  however,  if  once  in  my  thraldom,  his  future  conquest 
by  Sophia  might  not  be  so  easy,  1  generously  gave  up  the 
scheme. 

Olivia  gets  on  pretty  well  with  her  nabob.  She  married  for 
riches,  and  she  has  them  ;  and  those  who  marry  merely  for 
happiness  can  seldom  say  they  have  attained  it ;  she  therefore 
has  the  advantage.  She  rattles  her  chains  ratlier  too  vehe- 
mently ;  but  I  hope  her  husband  will  not  trouble  her  long,  and 
she  will  then  be  the  richest  widow  in  town,  with  the  liberty 
of  pleasing  herself.  Money,  Caroline,  is  a  positive  good.  It 
purchases  every  thing  we  want ;  and  if  it  did  not  always  pro- 
cure the  reality,  why  the  counterfeit  is  so  good  that  it  is  no( 
easily  detected.  Ha[)piness  may  vanish  ;  love  may  wear  ou< 
without  any  fault  of  ours  ;  but  money  remains  so  long  as  there 
are  funds,  strong  boxes,  and  prudence.  W  hy  do  we  not  think 
all  this  when  we  are  young ;  why  wait  till  we  have  wasted  or 
thrown  away  that  which  is  both  freedom  and  power  ?  It  is 
this  which  has  induced  my  inviting  our  cousin  Admiral  Frank- 
ley,  whom  you  used  to  denominate  a  sea  monster,  a  caliban. 
He  is  one  of  those  "  wise  men  come  from  the  Kast"  with  a 
prodigious  fortune  ;  and  should  he  not  discover  the  child  of  a 
beloved  sister,  who  married  against  his  consent,  and  who,  now 
that  she  is  dead,  he  would  willingly  forgive  (how  like  a. man), 
I  trust  that  a  great  portion  of  this  will  alight  among  us. 

You  now  know  all  my  principal  schemes.  As  to  the  hun- 
dred little  collateral  ones,  which  must  occupy  a  busy  woman 
in  this  busy  world,  they  are  too  numerous  to  detail.  Many 
of  them  make  me  wish  you  were  once  more  among  us  ;  for  a 
coadjutor  is  one  of  the  essentials  in  society.  Sometimes  I 
think  I  shall  follow  your  example,  and  set  up  my  standard 
where  one  is  not  crossed  at  every  turn  by  some  silly  regulation 
of  affected  fastidiousness  ;  but  my  duty  as  a  mother  stands  in 
the  way  of  this  desirable  project,  and  keeps  me  here,  where  1 
^hall  ever  be  my  dear  Caroline's  sincere  friend, 

Cecilia. 


TBE   OXONINH.  lOf 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

TOWN  AND  COUNTRY. 
God  made  the  Country — Man  the  Town. 

COWPER. 

Such  was  the  style  of  society  into  which  our  young  Oxonian 
Frank  Hartley,  with  his  sister,  was  thrown  ;  and  it  may  easily 
be  imagined  tliat  it  required  more  strength  of  mind  and  gre-^ter 
experience  in  the  world  than  either  of  them  possessed,  totally 
to  withstand  the  influence  of  the  various  seductive  circum- 
stances by  which  they  were  surrounded.  Both  of  them,  un- 
fortunately for  themselves,  were  peculiarly  alive  to  ridicule. 
This  was  easily  discovered  by  Lord  Orville  and  by  Lady  So- 
phia ;  and  became  an  almost  never-fading  weapon  to  mould 
them  to  their  various  purposes.  Sophia,  however,  could  as 
yet  make  no  impression  upon  Hartley.  In  spite  of  the  dissi- 
pation into  which  he  had  plunged,  and  of  the  variety  and  ele- 
gance of  the  women  whom  he  had  seeti,  the  remembrance  of 
the  Curate's  daughter  at  Oxford  was  not  entirely  erased  ;  and 
nothing  but  the  fear  of  that  ridicule  which  he  knew  would  be 
the  inevitable  consequence  of  such  a  communication,  could 
have  prevented  his  confiding  the  tale  of  his  early  love  to  Or- 
ville, in  reply  to  his  repeated  banterings  on  the  subject  of  his 
insensibility. 

It  was  almost  a  passion  of  Lord  Orville  to  lead  young  men 
into  every  kind  of  excess,  and  to  render  them  as  dissipated  as 
himself;  and  more  than  one  father  had  to  curse  the  influence 
of  this  young  nobleman  for  the  subversion  of  their  son's  morals, 
if  not  of  the  destruction  of  their  constitutions.  This  seductive 
influence  was  greatly  assisted  by  the  brilliancy  of  his  talents, 
and  by  that  fascination  of  manner,  which,  added  to.  his  rank, 
inspired  many  young  men  with  a  wish  of  imitation  which  often 
led  to  their  ruin.  An  experienced  gambler,  he  generally 
played  high,  and  was  successful.  A  great  admirer  of  beauty, 
and  a  libertine  in  his  opinions  with  regard  to  women  ;  it  was 


106  THE   OXONIAKS. 

whispered  that  more  than  one  bad  been  already  sacrificed  to  his 
wishes,  and  betrayed  by  hie  falsehood.  Yet  he  carried  his  sins 
upon  him  so  lightly  and  so  gracefully,  and  had  such  a  flow  of 
wit  and  animal  spirits,  that  the  world  was  ever  more  ready  to 
blame  his  victims  than  himself;  and  when  the  facts  were  too 
broad  for  denial  or  concealment,  people  were  always  more 
willing  to  sui'piise  him  to  have  been  seduced  by  the  lures  which 
had  been  spread  for  him,  than  that  he  had  himself  been  the 
cold-hearted  ruin-seeker.     Indeed  he  had  so  much  the  art  to 

"  Make  the  worse  appe&r  the  better  reason," 

that,  whatever  happened,  he  generally  contrived  to  have  the 
argument  and  the  world  in  his  own  favour. 

This  was  a  person  peculiarly  dangerous  to  a  man  of  such  a 
wavering  character  as  that  of  Hartley,  who  had  been  at  Col- 
letre  "  every  thing  by  turns,  and  nothing  long  ;"  led  away  by 
every  new  pursuit ;  now  a  huntsman,  now  a  student,  now  a 
lover,  and  now  a  stoic  ;  according  to  the  influence  of  the  mo- 
ment ;  yet  he  possesseii  a  fund  of  good  feeling  and  of  sound 
principle.  He  would  have  started  with  horror  at  the  idea  of 
seduction  ;  have  des[)ised  himself  if  he  could  have  been  guilty 
of  falsehood,  even  to  a  woman  ;  and  hr.v«^  shrunk  with  dismay 
fronn  any  thing  like  a  determined  propensity  to  the  gaming 
table.  ^ 

He  escaped  easily  from  the  set  by  which  his  friend  Lascelles 
was  surrounfied,  because  their  pursuits  were  not  of  a  charac- 
ter to  interest  him  ;  and  because  there  is  a  vulgarity  insepa- 
rably connected  with  boxin<f,  cock  fi<ihting,  and  horse-racing, 
which  dis<>usted  him.  But  with  Orville  it  was  widely  different. 
Vice  in  his  hands  w::s  clothed  with  an  elegance  which  hid  its 
deformity  ;  sensuality  assumed  the  trrace  and  name  of  senti- 
ment ;  seduction  soujrht  its  apology  in  the  uncontrollable  influ- 
ence of  passion  :  while  his  more  common  intrigues  were  pur- 
sued with  the  fastidious  particularity  of  a  sybarite.  There 
was  nothing  to  disgust  the  eye  or  the  ear.  What  Orville 
wanted  in  princiitle  he  made  up  in  taste,  and  was  as  perfect  an 
epicure  in  his  pleasures,  as  A[icius  was  in  his  table  ;  while 
the  pursuit  of  thetn  was  conducted  with  an  elegance  and  re- 
finement in  which  Petronius  himself  could  have  found  nothing 
wanting. 

This  was  a  dangerous  character  to  be  the  constant  compa- 
nion of  a  young  man  just  entering  life  ;  and  the  knowledge 
that  it  was  Lady  Orville's  intention  to  make  him  his  brother 


THE   OXONIANS.  107 

in-law,  did  not  exempt  Hartley  from  Lord  Orville's  propensity 
to  make  others  as  bad  and  as  vicious  as  himself.  Nay,  in  the 
present  instance,  he  argued  that  he  should  be  doing  his  sister 
a  service  by  giving  her  husband  that  experience  before  marriage 
•which  it  might  be  very  uncomfortable  to  her  for  him  to  have  to 
gain  afterward  ;  and  by  initiating  him  into  that  knowledge  of 
the  world,  which  he  asserted  it  was  necessary  for  every  man  to 
possess.  And  too  generally,  indeed,  is  this  pursuit  of  vice  de- 
nominated knowledge  of  the  world  ;  as  though  that  knowledge 
only  consisted  in  those  things  which  should  be  known  only  to  be 
avoided. 

A  certain  knowledge  of  the  world  is  no  doubt  necessary  ; 
but  he  who  acquires  his  knowledge  at  the  expense  of  his 
morals,  is  the  worse  for  his  education. 

Almost  the  constant  companion  of  Lord  Orville,  Hartley 
could  not  avoid  frequently  joining  in  pursuits  and  parties  at 
which  he  would  rather  not  have  been  present ;  but  as  he  be- 
came more  accustomed  to  them,  the  effect  they  at  first  pro- 
duced gradually  wore  off,  and  from  being  a  passive  spectator 
he  at  length  became  occasionally  a  participator  of  scenes  and 
pleasures  in  the  evening,  which  at  first  invariably  produced 
repentance  in  the  morning.  If  ever  we  suffer  the  rigidity  of  our 
principles  to  give  way  in  the  pursuit  of  pleasure,  it  is  astonishing 
how  quickly  those  principles  become  totally  undermined.  One 
step  leads  to  another,  till,  being  accustomed  to  that  which  we 
once  considered  vice,  the  frequency  of  its  recurrence  takes 
from  it  that  character.  We  then  follow  it  as  a  matter  of  course, 
and  consider  it  among  the  common  circumstances  of  life. 

Hartley's  principles  did  not  rapidly  give  way  ;  but  still  he  was 
seduced  by  the  influence  of  Orville  into  many  scenes  at  which 
he  blushed,  Avhen  their  real  character  forced  itself  on  his  mind  ; 
nor  could  all  tlie  elegance  tliat  accompanied  these  pursuits, 
nor  all  the  ingenious  sophistry  of  Orville,  entirely  prevent  his 
shrinking  from  the  remembrance  of  them  with  bitter  feelings 
of  repentance. 

Young,  handsome,  and  rich  as  he  was,  he  soon  also  found 
himself  courted  by  a  class  of  females  of  a  certain  age,  whose 
conduct  had  been  just  sufficiently  scrupulous  to  keep  them 
within  the  pale  of  society,  and  who  do  more  towards  under- 
mining a  young  man's  principles  with  regard  to  women,  and 
towards  lessening  his  respect  for  them,  than  all  the  ebullition 
of  youthful  passion,  or  any  success  that  may  crown  the  pursuits 
to  which  they  excite  him.  By  this  class  of  females,  many  a 
man  who  would  otherwise  have  pursued  his  way  quietly  and 


108  THE   OXOMANS. 

harmlessly  through  the  world,  has  been  transformed  into  a 
libertine  and  a  coxcomb  ;  and  there  is,  unfortunately,  scarcely 
any  circle  of  society  in  which  these  dangerous  Circes  are  not 
to  be  found. 

Hartley  was,  however,  far  from  falling  mto  all  the  tempta- 
tions by  which  he  was  surrounded  ;  but  by  giving  himself  up 
totally  to  scenes  of  dissipation  and  gayety,  and  occupying  him- 
self by  no  useful  or  solid  pursuits,  the  power  of  resistance  he- 
came  gradually  weakened  ;  and  when,  in  his  fits  of  right  reason- 
ing, he  would  have  withdrawn  from  some  party  projected  by 
Lord  Orville,  he  was  assailed  by  such  a  volley  of  ridicule  from 
that  nobleman  and  his  companions,  that  he  was  generally 
obliged  to  resign  himself  to  their  influence. 

Lady  Orville  saw  that  reflection  would  not  aid  her  scheme?, 
and  she  therefore  added  her  exertions  towards  keeping  his  mind 
perpetually  occupied  by  pleasure  ;  leaving  no  time  either  for 
his  mind  or  that  of  Emily  to  reflect,  she  calculated  that  they 
would  soon  lose  the  power  as  well  as  the  inchnation  ;  and  that 
their  present  life  of  excitement  would  soon  obliterate  all  wish 
to  return  to  their  former  tranquil  existence. 

In  the  mean  time,  poor  Emily's  mind  became  sadly  bewil 
dered  by  the  round  of  pleasure  to  which  she  had  so  suddenly 
been  introduced.  Plied  by  the  flattery  of  Lord  Orville  on  one 
side,  and  perpetually  subject  to  the  insidious  persuasions  and 
examples  of  Lady  Orville  and  Sophia  on  the  other ;  she 
already  began  to  look  upon  her  past  existence  as  time  that  had 
been  lost ;  and  at  the  thoughts  and  feelings  that  then  gave  her 
pleasure,  as  the  mere  result  of  her  childhood  and  inexperience. 
The  perpetual  state  of  excitement  in  which  she  was  kepi 
perverted  her  imagination,  and  gave  her  no  time  to  form  a 
correct  judgment  of  the  scenes  in  which  her  time  was  spent, 
or  the  characters  by  which  she  was  surrounded. 

Sometimes,  with  her  waking  thoughts  would  come  a  recol- 
lection of  the  tranquil  pleasures  of  Hartley  Grove,  and  with  it 
all  the  accompanying  remembrances  of  Edward  Forrester  and 
his  attentions,  and  of  her  mother's  kindness  and  example ;  but 
before  they  could  have  sufficient  influence  to  unwarp  her  mind 
Irom  its  present  thraldom,  the  tempters  were  at  her  side-  new 
scenes  of  pleasure  were  presented,  and  the  same  giddy  whirl 
continued. 

If  reflection  intruded  for  a  moment,  it  was  banished  by 
some  new  pursuit ;  and  if  she  even  ventured  to  allude  to  her 
country  life,  a  torrent  of  ridicule  was  sure  to  silence  her  re- 
marks, and  made  her  ashamed  of  owning  that  she  had  ever 


THE  oxol;IA^'s.  109 

derived  any  enjoyment  from  it.  We  are  sorry  also  to  add,  that 
the  elegance  of  Lord  Orville  had  often  made  iier  draw  com- 
parisons between  that  young  nobleman  and  Edv/ard  Forrester, 
not  quite. in  favour  of  the  latter. 

"  Come  now,  Emily,"  said  Lady  Sophia  to  her  one  evening, 
ns  they  sat  down  after  the  fatigues  of  a  quadrille,  "  you  must 
certainly  acknowledge  this  to  be  a  little  better  than  vegetating 
like  a  cabbage-rose  in  the  country,  with  no  other  beau  than  the 
prosing  Mr.  Forrester.  Come,  confess,  is  not  your  new  mode 
of  life  delightful  to  you  ?" 

"  I  do  confess,"  replied  Emily,  "  that  I,  indeed,  find  it  de- 
lightful ;  but  I  have  so  long  been  taught  to  dread  the  thorns, 
that  I  scarcely  dare  enjoy  the  flowers," 

"What!"  exclaimed  Lord  Orville,  who  had  caught  this 
sentence  en  passant ;  "  is  it  our  charming  rustic  who  is  moraliz- 
ing so  poetically  about  thorns  and  flowers  ?  and  is  Miss  Hart- 
ley weak  enough  to  follow  the  musty  maxims  of  those  dull 
cynics,  who,  because  they  have  been  once  stung  by  a  bee,  and 
once  wounded  by  a  thorn,  would  have  us  forswear  honey  and 
roses  to  the  end  of  our  lives  ?  We  modern  philosophers  knov/ 
better  ;  we  enjoy  all  the  pleasures  of  the  bee  with  no  more  toil 
than  the  butterfly." 

"  Ay,  but  remember,"  said  Emily,  "  that  gay  and  volatile 
insect  perishes  with  the  summer,  in  whose  sun  it  has  idly 
basked  ;  whfle  the  industrious  bee — " 

"  Is  blown  up  by  gunpowder  for  the  sake  of  the  honey  which 
his  labour  has  accumulated,"  interrupted  Lord  Orville.  "  This 
is  the  reward  of  his  industry  ;  and  surely  you  must  allow  that 
it  is  better  to  exnire  amid  the  sweets  of  flowers,  on  whose 
leaves  you  have  led  a  life  of  delight,  than  live  to  be  suflbcated 
amid  the  stores,  which  v/e  have  collected  through  hours  of  toil 
and  pain." 

"  Well  argued,  Frederick,"  exclaimed  Sophia  ;  "  the  butter- 
fly has  it  all  to  nothiiig." 

"  Hitherto,  Miss  Emily,  believe  me,  you  have  only  vegetated. 
Here  you  will  begin  to  live. — Begin  to  feel  the  power  of  your 
charms  ;  and,"  lowering  his  voice  into  a  sound  of  modulated 
tenderness,  ''  to  make  others  feel  it." 

Emily  felt  agitated,  she  scarcely  knew  why ;  for  compli- 
ments were  now  familiar  to  her  ear. 

"  Oh  yes,"  cried  Lady  Sophia  ;  "  London,  dear  London,  is 
the  place  after  all.  As  to  the  country,  I  never  could  endure 
it.  There  every  day  in  the  week  passes  in  the  same  dull  mo- 
notony.    For  want  of  better  society,  one  is  obliged  to  take  the 

Vol.  L— 10 


110  THE    OXOMANS. 

village  apothecary  by  way  of  a  sleeping  potion ;  or  to  keep 
ones  self  awake  by  quarrelling,  at  litigious  whist,  with  the 
attorney — " 

"  While  the  only  amusement  on  a  wet  Sunday,"  continued 
Lord  Orville,  "  is  a  shivering  visit  to  a  cold  country  church, 
which,  from  its  damps,  as  regularly  transfers  its  inmates  to  the 
churchyard,  as  a  physician  consigns  his  patients  to  the  under- 
taker ;  and  where  one  is  condemned  to  hear  a  fat  vicar  snore 
through  the  litany — " 

"Or  a  half-starved  curate,"  continued  Lady  Sophia,  "  ex- 
tend his  sermon  to  the  gaping  congregation  for  the  length 
of  an  hour  ;  for  fear  of  losing  his  Sunday's  dinner  by  waking 
his  patron  before  he  had  finished  his  nap." 

"  Nay,"  said  Emily,  pleadingly,  "  but  you  know  that  at 
Christmas,  Hartley  Grove  was  filled  by  transplantations  from 
your  own  circles." 

"Oh!  ril  allow,"  replied  Sophia,  "  that  we  did  all  of  u^ 
come  for  one  month  in  the  year,  out  of  pity;  but  that  very 
circumstance  must  have  made  the  other  eleven  ten  times  more 
dull  by  the  contrast." 

"  Ay  ;  but  then  the  rest  of  the  year  we  had  assemblies, 
you  know,"  argued  Emily,  unwilling  to  hear  a  country  life 
cried  down  quite  so  furiously. 

"Assemblies!"  repeated  Lady  Sophia.  "True,  with  all 
the  dull  dowagers  to  play  sixpenny  whist  ;  a  half-pay  captain 
with  a  wooden  leg  the  Master  of  the  Ceremonies  ;  a  few  old 
bachelors  to  hobble  through  dances  in  the  time  of  the  Dead 
March  in  Saul ;  and  the  prudent  Edward  Forrester  to  prose  to 
you  between  the  sets." 

"  But  we  had  many  settlers  from  the  metropolis  in  our 
neighbourhood,"  again  urged  Emily. 

"  True,"  cried  Lord  Orville  ;  "  tradesmen  and  attorneys  be- 
come rich  by  their  villanous  occupation,  and  retired  to  the 
country  because  a  little  too  modest  to  spend  their  customer.^' 
and  clients'  money  before  their  faces.  But  come,  the  next 
quadrille  is  forming  ;  and,  if  disengaged,  I  trust  Miss  Emily 
will  not  refuse  to  dance  with  me.  Here,  Hartley,  vis-a-vis  us, 
with  my  sister  ;"  and  they  joined  the  circle  of  dancers.  Lord 
Orville  taking  every  opportunity,  of  which  the  convenient 
quadrille  affords  so  many,  to  delight  Emily  with  that  conversa- 
tion, of  which  he  was  a  perfect  master.  If  there  is  any  thing 
a  man  is  to  be  envied  for,  it  is  the  possession  of  that  tact  and 
talent,  which  can  carry  him  through  such  a  conversation  upon 


THE  OXOKIAXS.  1  1 1 

trifles,  as  can  render  them  interesting.  How  many  moments 
of  tedium  does  tiiis  faculty  save  the  fortunate  possessor. 

How  miserably  awkward  have  we  seen  a  man,  standing  by 
the  side  of  his  partner,  during  the  passive  part  of  a  quadrille, 
without  exchanging  a  word  Avith  her  ;  or,  if  she  has  courage 
enough  to  make  an  attempt  at  conversation,  only  answering 
her  with  a  monosyllable.  What  a  relief  to  such  a  man  must 
be  the  word  "  L'ete,"  or  even  "  Pastourelle,"  since  it  takes 
from  the  awkwardness  of  his  silence  by  setting  him  in  motion  ; 
and  with  what  delight  must  hej  hear  Challoner  or  Collinet's 
command  for  the  "  grand  rond,"  which  puts  him  so  nearly  out  of 
his  jeopardy. 

What  a  pity  that  the  dancing-master  does  not  exercise  the 
tongue,  as  well  as  the  feet,  of  the  pupil ;  or  that  Hart,  or 
Collinct,  or  Wieppert,  or  Musard,  do  not  accompany  the  pub- 
lication of  their  quadrilles  by  some  little  entertaining  collo- 
quies that  might  relieve  young  ladies  and  gentlemen  from  the 
awkwardness  of  that  total  silence,  which  so  often  gives  to  an 
English  dance  the  solemnity  of  some  religious  ceremony,  in- 
stead of  the  appearance  of  hilarity. 

Were  we  dancers,  we  would,  rather  than  remain  silent,  get 
up  a  conversation  ;  and  taking  care  not  to  dance  with  the 
same  partner  twice,  and  to  avoid  sisters,  make  it  last  us 
throusrh  the  whole  evcninsr. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

SPORTIXG. 

And  when  their  reasoning  power's  spent 
Resort  to  bets  for  argument. — Hudibras. 

"  Six  to  four  on  Podargus  for  the  Derby." 
"  Done,"  said  Lascelles. 
"  Five  to  two  on  Fatima  for  the  Oaks." 
"Done,"  said  Lascelles. 

"  I'll  take  two  to  one  on  the  Lady  of  the  Lake  for  the 
Ascot  Cup." 

"  Done,"  said  Lascelles. 

"  Hero's  six  to  three  on  Matilda  for  the  St.  Leger." 


112  THE    OXO^"IA^i 

"  Done,"  said  Lascelles,  and  the  champagne  was  so  rapidir 
taking  effect  upon  the  brain  of  our  quondam  mail-coach  stu- 
dent, that  he  would  have  said  "  done"  to  any  bet  that  was 
proposed,  however  preposterous  the  chances  might  be  against 
him. 

This  betting  occurred  at  a  dinner,  after  one  of  the  settling 
days  for  a  previous  race.  For  a  wonder,  Lascelles  had  found 
himself  a  winner ;  whether  by  accident,  or  that  it  was  so  per- 
mitted, purposely  to  lead  him  on  to  farther  bets,  was  not  quite 
decided  m  the  minds  of  those  who  were  more  knowing  than 
Lascelles  ;  though  much  less  so  than  those  with  whom  lie 
generally  associated  on  the  turf.  This  trifiino;  turn  in  his  luck, 
in  the  midst  of  a  series  of  losses  almost  unexampled  in  the 
annals  of  betting,  had  put  Lascelles  in  spirits  ;  he  began  to  re- 
gain that  opinion  of  his  own  judgment  which  repeated  disap- 
pointments were  beginning  to  shake,  and  he  once  more  betted 
with  confidence.  Those  by  whom  he  was  surrounded  fore- 
saw that  this  would  be  the  case,  and  therefore  eagerly  accepted 
his  invitation  to  a  dinner,  at  which  they  knew  a  great  deal  of 
business  was  to  be  done, 

LascelleH  always  gave  what  his  slang  companions,  in  their 
vulgar  phraseology,  called  "a  good  feed,"  or  a  "capitalspread." 
As  he  kept  a  good  cook,  and  was  a  little  better  connoisseur 
of  wines  than  when  drinking  his  landlord's  burgundy  at  Ox- 
ford, there  was  many  a  gourmand  who  courted  the  luxuries  of 
his  table.  Indeed,  among  the  set  with  whom  Lascelles  chose 
to  associate,  there  is  no  want  of  guests  ;  and  a  man  with  seven 
thousand  a  year,  who  seems  willing  to  live  at  the  rate  of  twico 
his  income,  can  always  find  plenty  to  help  him  in  its  expen- 
diture. 

The  first  course  was  scarcely  removed  ere  the  betting  on 
prospective  races  commenced,  and  Lascelles  did  not  disap- 
point his  customers  ;  for,  having  received  a  little  intelligence 
from  a  knowing  one,  to  whom  he  had  that  morning  lent  a  sum 
of  money,  and  upon  whom  he  thought  he  might  depend,  he 
betted  even  more  freely  than  usual,  and  was  booked  for  several 
very  heavy  sums,  which  were  already  considered  as  won,  by 
those  with  whom  the  bets  were  made. 

One  would  imagine  that  during  the  exercise  of  his  hospi- 
tality a  man  would  be  protected  from  temptation,  by  any  of 
his  guests,  into  a  bet  which  was  known  to  be  a  certain  loss. 
But  it  is  no  such  thing  :  any  time  and  place  are  fit  to  make  a 
good  bet  in  ;  and  the  man  on  the  turf,  who,  at  your  table,  is 
in  the  full  enjoyment  of  the  kindness  of  your  welcome,  will 


THE    OXOMANS.  113 

just  as  re.ulily  book  you  for  a  bet  which  he  knows  may  entail 
ruin  on  the  family  by  which  he  is  surrounded,  and  break  up 
the  establishment  by  which  lie  is  entertained,  as  he  would 
enter  the  most  trifling  bet  of  the  commonest  bidder  at  Tat- 
tersal's. 

''  Here's  three  to  two,  you  don't  name  the  winner." 

"  Done,"  again  said  Lascelles. 

"Thousands?"  asked  the  proposer,  with  his  book  open  in 
his  hand. 

"Thousands!"  repeated  Lascelles,  "  if  you  please;  and 
some  champagne  with  you,  Crawley."  And  down  went  the 
bets,  and  down  went  the  champagne. 

The  boldness  of  this  bet  staggered  the  most  daring  of  those 
who  had  for  some  time  been  preying  upon  the  credulity  of 
Lascelles.  His  eyes  were  not  even  opened  by  the  fact  of  their 
always  winning,  and  his  always  losing ;  or  by  the  repeated 
hints  which  some  of  the  honourable  men  on  the  turf  were  re- 
peatedly giving  him,  not  to  bet  so  indiscriminately,  and  to  be 
more  careful  of  his  associates.  Puffed  up,  however,  by  enco- 
miums on  his  judgment  in  horse-flesh,  and  seeing  these  very 
men  book  the  bets  of  his  companions,  he  attributed  their 
warnings  to  some  sinister  motive,  and  took  no  notice  of  them  , 
or  at  least  did  not  profit  by  the  kind  intentions  of  his  advisers, 
but  went  on  in  the  same  career. 

The  conversation  now  turned  on  driving,  and  the  relative 
merits  of  their  horses  ;  and,  as  usual,  in  the  absence  of  all 
other  arguments,  bets  were  adopted  as  the  speediest  and  surest 
method  of  deciding  which  was  right. 

"  My  pair  of  curricle-horses  will  beat  any  pair  with  the  same 
weight  behind  them  in  the  kingdom,"  cried  Lascelles.  '•  Yoa 
remember  my  curricle  at  college,  Harry  Vaux,  don't  you  ?" 

"  Sunt  quos  curricula  pulvere  Olympicum  collegisse  ']uvs.t — 
Horace,"  replied  Vaux  ;  who  had  come  up  to  spend  a  few 
weeks  with  his  patron,  and  upon  whose  brain  the  champagne 
was  just  beginning  to  take  its  usual  effect. 

"Oh  d n  your  Latin.     Why  you're  in  London,  man, 

where  they  understand  nothing  but  English." 

"  In  the  vulgar  tongue,"  said  a  dry,  sarcastic  voice  at  the 
end  of  the  table. 

"  Well,  Mr.  Lascelles,  I  will  drive  my  tandem  against  your 
curricle  when  and  where  you  please,  and  we  won't  quarrel 
about  place,  distance,  or  money,"  said  an  amphibious  person, 
between  a  coachman  and  a  gentleman. 

'^  Desine  mollium,  tande^n  querellarum — Horace  again." 
10* 


114  THE    OXOMA?:s. 

Li.^celles  was  so  eager  in  taking  his  bet,  that  he  had  not 
time  to  give  Vaux  his  usual  reproof  for  his  Latin.  ''A  thou- 
sand, then  ;  will  that  do?" 

''  Very  well,"  cried  the  other,  cliuckling  at  a  bet  which  he 
considered  already  in  his  pocket ;  since  his  tandem-horses 
were  known  to  be  the  fastest  in  England  ;  and  by  luck,  in 
betting,  he  had  himself  risen  from  the  honourable  office  of 
fctage-coachman  to  the  rank  of  a  crentleman  ;  1  mean,  of 
course,  a  "  gentleman  of  the  turf;"'  by  which  is  meant,  a  pe- 
culiar kind  of  person  bearing  that  denomination  ;  so  that  the 
chances  were  in  favour  of  his  being  the  best  driver  of  the  two. 

'•  Lascelles,"  cried  a  gourmand,  "  pray  who's  your  cook  ? 
This  celery  sauce  is  not  fit  to  be  eaten  by  an  African  slave." 

"  Et  malus  celcri  saucius  Africo  Antemnjeque  gcmant." 

"  For  God's  sake  stop  your  mouth  with  some  burgundy, 
Vaux,  or  we'll  put  it  to  the  vote,  whether  that  Latin  tongue  of 
vour's  shall  not  be  cut  out.  For  God's  sake,  man,  humanize, 
and  taiii  about  horses,  and  dogs,  and  women,  as  other  gentle- 
men do." 

"  Lascelles,  they  say  your  filly  is  to  win  the  cup,'"  said  one 
Avho  wanted  (o  urge  another  bet. 

^'-  Filimn  dicunt  Thetides," 

"  English,  Vaux — English,"  cried  Lascelles ;  then  turning 
to  the  other,  "  I'll  back  her  to  any  amount ;"  and  a  new  bet 
was  made. 

Tiie  business  of  the  day  seemed  to  be  now  pretty  nearly 
done,  and  the  party  began  to  give  way  to  their  inclination  for 
burgundy  and  champagne,  from  which  they  liad  carefully 
abstained,  while  they  were  making  their  previous  bets ;  al- 
though they  had  one  and  all  encouraged  Lascelles  in  a  pretty 
free  use  of  them.  The  conversation  therefore  took  a  more 
general  turn,  if  that  could  be  dignified  by  the  name  of  conver- 
satioM  w])ich  consisted  of  a  melange,  in  v,i)icii  the  pedigree 
of  a  liorse  was  mixed  up  with  the  qualities  of  an  opera- 
dancer;  and  the  excellence  of  a  man's  pointer  canvassed  with 
the  merits  of  his  mistress. 

There  were,  among  the  guests  of  Lascelles,  young  men, 
who  prided  themselves  upon  intrigues  v.itii  the  subordinate 
"ar^is^e*"  of  the  opera  and  French  play;  and  to  whom  it  v.as 
a  boast,  to  treat  another  man's  mistress  to  a  box  at  the  theatre, 
or  to  a  party  to  Salt-liill,  the  Talbot,  or  the  Star  and  Garter. 

To  such  men  as  these,  the  attraction  of  a  woman  consists 
in  the  familiarity  of  her  conversation,  and  the  freedom  of  her 
manners.     That  which,  in  a  better  tone  of  society,  would  have 


THE   OXONIANS.  115 

been  designated  vulgarity,  they  called  style  ;  coarse  effrontery, 
they  termed  fashionable  ease ;  and  an  unblushing  avowal  of 
unfeminine  pursuits,  they  denominated  open-heartedness.  The 
hatred  of  Lascelles  to  any  thing  like  the  ceremonies  of  the 
drawing-room,  unfortunately  rendered  females  of  this  stamp 
much  more  to  his  inchnation  than  any  with  whom  he  would 
have  met  in  his  own  rank  in  life.  Nothing  was  more  contrary 
to  his  nature  than  dancing  that  attendance  upon  women 
which  is  expected  in  all  cultivated  society.  The  common 
attentions  of  politeness  he  thought  a  great  '*  bore,"  and  was 
never  so  happy  as  when  he  could  escape  altogether  from  the 
trammels  of  that  circle  in  which  he  was  born ;  and  to  which, 
with  his  mind  properly  regulated,  he  might  have  been  an  orna- 
ment. This  perverted  taste  had  been  acquired  by  his  early 
acquaintance  with  "  the  Fancy,"  made  during  his  escapades 
from  Oxford ;  and  as  his  initiation  into  the  manners  of  this 
class  unfitted  him  for  his  own  ;  it  was  no  wonder  that  he 
shrunk  from  the  one  where  he  felt  himself  nobody ;  and  gave 
himself  up  freely  to  those  whose  interest  it  was  to  make  him 
feel  the  king  of  his  party.  How  many  good  qualities  have 
been  sacrificed  to  this  mean  ambition  ! 

Lascelles  was  in  reality  a  fine-spirited,  good-natured  fellow, 
with  his  heart,  his  hand,  and  liis  purse  open  to  his  friends ; 
and  believing  every  body  to  be  as  honest  as  liimself,  would 
have  thought  it  as  impossible  for  any  of  those  he  designated  by 
this  title,  to  be  guilty  of  a  mean  action,  as  he  felt  incapable  of 
committing  one  himself.  Such  a  man  as  this,  with  sporting 
inclinations,  was  precisely  the  person  to  fall  a  prey  to  those 
who  are  always  lingering  about  the  outskirts  of  good  society. 
He  soon  became  acquainted  with  a  set,  denominated  by  him- 
self hearty  fellows  ;  vv^ho  very  cheerfully  partook  of  his 
dinners,  borrowed  his  money,  and  introduced  him  to  a  female 
circle  of  acquaintance,  quite  as  willing  as  themselves  to  help 
in  the  plucking  of  so  well-fledged  a  pigeon.  Lascelles  was 
a  man  of  higher  rank  than  it  generally  fell  to  the  lot  of  these 
gentry  to  get  into  their  association.  The  sons  of  rich  citizens, 
the  heirs  of  wealthy  country  squires,  and  tradesmen  aping  the 
habits  and  occupations  of  gentlemen,  had  been  the  acme  of 
their  hopes ;  but  Lascelles  was  a  man  of  family,  and  there- 
fore so  much  the  more  worthy  of  the  attention  of  these  spe- 
culators. 

By  this  set  was  the  table  of  Lascelles  now  surrounded,  and 
we  have  seen  that  they  made  pretty  good  use  of  their  time  at 
the  commencement  of  the  dinner.     Conversation  now,  how- 


116  THE    OXONIANS. 

ever,  changed  into  tliat  coarse  flattery  which  was  unfortunately 
peculiarly  palatable  to  Lascelles. 

"Ah,  Lascelles,"  said  one;  "So  I  see  you  have  cut  out 
Lord  B — .  I  saw  La  Paulina  in  your  vis-a-vis,  you  sly  rogue. 
Why,  you  won't  leave  a  nymph  of  the  coryphee  for  any  other 
harem  than  your  own." 

*^'- Nympharum(\uQ  leves  cum  satyrist  chori — Horace,"  mut- 
tered Vaux. 

"  Pshaw,  youVe  mistaken,"  cried  Lascelles  ;  evidently 
pleased  at  the  insinuation. 

"Upon  my  soul,  Lascelles,"  cried  another,  "you  are  too 
bad  ;  what  will  j)Oor  Clara  do  ?     Clara's  a  fine  girl — " 

"  Laudabunt  alii  chwa  Ilhodon — " 

"  Curse  your  Latin,  Vaux;  will  you  never  have  done  ?" 

"  And  the  little  Mary,  too.  Lascelles,  you  certainly  are  a 
devil  of  a  fellow — " 

"  Oh  no  ;  there  you  do  accuse  me  wrongfully.  Mary  was 
too  deep  forme,  I  confess,"  replied  Lascelles. 

"  Profundo  7narc,''  whispered  ^'aux. 

"Ah  !  Lascelles,  it  was  a  critical  moment  for  poor  I\Iary — 

"In  marc  Crcficum — " 

"  Vaux,  you'll  drive  me  mad. — No  ;  the  utmost  peccadillo 
I  could  ever  persuade  her  to  commit,  was  to  meet  me  under 
the  arcade,  or  to  take  a  jelly  at  that  king  of  confectioners, 
Granges — " 

''  Quis  sub  arcto  Rex  gelidse  metuatur  orae,"  hiccuped 
Vaux,  half  asleep.  . 

"  If  you  utter  another  word  of  Latin,  you  shall  never  have 
the  living.  Do  you  think  \  want  a  ])aslor  to  bore  me  to  death 
with  the  classics  ?" 

"Pastor  cum — "  The  cork  of  a  bottle  of  soda-water  flew 
out  at  this  minute  into  Vaux's  face,  and  stopped  his  <iuotation. 

"Prime  soda,  by  Jove,"  uttered  the  person  who  had  called 
for  it. 

"  Pompei  meorum  jyrme  sodaVmm  ?"  sputtered  Vaux,  as  he 
sneezed  away  the  effects  of  the  explosion. 

And  thus  the  worthy  party  went  on  cajoling  Lascelles  with 
their  flatteries,  wiiile  Vaux  uttered  quotations  long  after  his 
senses  had  left  him.  At  length  they  all  adjourned,  including 
the  worthy  pastor  in  embryo,  to  one  of  those  clubs  where 
hazard  is  not  interdicted. 

That  a  man  should  feel  a  gratification  at  being  praised, 
eiUier  directly  or  obliquely,  for  actions  which  do  credit  to 
his  heart,  and  deserve  tlic  epithet  of  virtuous,  is  natural ;  and 


: 


THE    OXOMA^•S.  117 

the  vanity,  if  the  feeling  is  founded  in  vanity,  is  more  likely  to 
be  productive  of  good  than  evil. 

Here,  however,  we  have  an  instance,  and  not  at  all  an  un- 
common one,  of  a  man's  being  flattered  for  his  vices  ;  of  his 
being  gratified  by  praises  for  actions,  of  which,  in  the  calm- 
ness of  his  reflecting  moments,  he  is  ashamed.  Yet  such  is 
human  nature,  that  there  is  a  pride  even  in  vice,  and  an  ambi- 
tion to  be  gratified,  by  being  even  more  vicious  than  one's 
companions. 

We  can  ourselves,  unfortunately,  number  among  our  asso- 
ciates many  whose  ambition  it  is  to  appear  much  worse  than 
they  really  are  ;  who  boast  of  vices  of  which  they  are  never 
guilty;  and  gain  a  credit  for  crimes  they  have  never  com- 
mitted. Why  is  it  that  certain  vices  give  man  a  celebrity 
which  he  would  never  enjoy  for  the  mere  exercise  of  virtue  ? 


CHx\PTER  XVL 


AN   ABSENT   LOVER. 


Nor  retirement,  nor  solitude, 

Can  give  me  relief,  - 
When  away  from  my  beautiful  Maid. 

DiBDIN. 

While  Hartley  and  his  sister  were  thus  gradually  losing  the 
beauty  of  their  simplicity,  and  merging  their  natural  traits  in 
the  factitious  characteristics  of  fashion,  Edward  Forrester  was 
pursuing  his  usual  routine  of  duties  at  Forrester-lodge.  The 
absence  of  Emily  from  the  country  had  deprived  his  occu- 
pations of  their  principal  zest.  She  was  no  longer  there  to 
admire  the  improvements  he  contemplated  in  his  park,  or  to 
smile  her  approbation  at  the  happiness  of  his  tenantry.  With 
her  presence  had  fled  the  principal  pleasure  of  his  existence. 
The  hope  of  seeing  her  in  the  evening  had  hitherto  sweetened 
the  hours  of  the  morning  ;  the  recollection  of  her  conversation 
had  enlivened  his  thoughts  during  the  solitude  of  the  night. 
But  she  was  gone,  and  he  started  with  alarm  at  finding  how 
dull  every  thing  appeared  in  her  absence  ;  and  how  essential 
her  presence  was  to  his  existence. 


118  THE  OXONIAX?. 

Had  he  followed  the  bent  of  his  own  inclinations,  he  would 
have  shut  himself  up  from  all  intercourse  with  his  fellow-beingg 
on  her  departure,  and  remained  a  solitary  till  her  return.  But 
Forrester  was  not  a  man  to  permit  a  morbid  and  selfisli  melan- 
choly to  interrupt  the  performance  of  active  and  necessary 
duties.  He  roused  himself  from  the  inertion  which  the  ab- 
sence of  Emily  at  first  occasioned.  He  forced  himself  into 
the  midst  of  his  tenantry,  and  endeavoured  to  derive  pleasure 
in  their  relief,  and  from  the  anticipation  of  the  approval  of  her 
whom  he  hoped  would  one  day  be  mistress  of  the  estate  to 
which  he  devoted  his  care.  Forrester  was  not  one  of  those, 
who,  because  they  are  born  to  the  possession  of  a  fine  estate, 
think  they  have  a  right  to  lead  a  life  of  idleness  ;  he  rather  felt 
that  its  possession  gave  him  additional  duties  to  perform  ;  and 
in  their  performance,  and  the  hours  spent  in  conversing  about 
Emily  with  her  fatiier  and  mother,  he  derived  the  only  pleasures 
enjoyed  during  her  absence.  Forrester  had,  however,  other 
ideas  to  contend  with  besides  that  of  the  mere  separation  from 
Emily  ;  and  these  arose  from  his  fears  of  the  alteration  in  her 
mind  which  such  a  complete  change  of  life  and  scene  might 
create.  He  was  perfectly  conscious  how  deficient  he  was  in 
those  graces  and  lighter  accomplishments  which  are  the  stock 
in  trade  of  a  man  of  the  world  ;  and  he  knew  the  influence  of 
these  graces  on  the  mind  and  heart  of  a  girl  of  eighteen.  He 
had,  however,  such  a  reliance  on  her  principles,  and  knew  so 
much  of  her  inclinations,  that  he  thought  he  might  make 
himself  certain  that  a  few  months  of  gayety  however  dissi- 
pated, and  of  society,  however  brilliant,  could  never  destroy 
those  simple  tastes  for  the  pleasures  of  the  country,  which  had 
given  so  great  a  charm  to  her  youthful  character.  Yet  he 
sometimes  thought  he  perceived  a  change  in  the  style  of  her 
letters  to  the  Grove.  There  was  less  of  regret  at  being  absent 
from  the  country,  and  a  coldness  in  speaking  of  her  return, 
that  chilled  him  to  tlie  heart,  and  made  him  dread  a  thousand 
things,  which  he  was  afraid  to  acknowledge  even  to  himself; 
and  which  he  could  much  less  make  the  subject  of  conversa- 
tion with  her  parents,  who  saw  in  their  child's  letters  nothing 
more  than  the  natural  efiusion  of  that  gayety  which  it  was  so 
likely  siie  should  experience  at  her  first  entrance  into  the  world. 
Forrester  tried  to  persuade  himself  to  think  the  same  ;  but  he 
soon  found  that  a  lover's  mind  is  more  difficult  to  regulate,  in 
matters  of  this  sort,  than  that  of  a  parent's.  His  life  was, 
therefore,  one  of  continual  anxiety  ;  and  it  required  the  re- 
membrance of  all  their  intimacy,  and  of  all  her  assurances  to 


THE  OXOKIAKS.  119 

the  contrary,  to  make  him  hope  that  she  woultl  return  the  same 
unchanged  and  artless  girl. 

The  only  real  pleasure  he  enjoyed  was  in  doing  those  things, 
and  pursuing  those  improvements,  which  he  iioped  would  be 
appreciated  by,  and  would  please  her  on  her  return  ;  and, 
when  at  the  Grove,  he  spent  a  great  part  of  his  time  in  inspect- 
ing her  garden,  looking  after  her  pony  and  spaniels,  and  visiting 
every  spot  which  had  been  her  favourite  resort.  The  days  had 
never,  however,  appeared  so  long ;  time  seemed  to  linger  on 
his  journey  ;  and  he  thought  the  spring  would  never  pass  away, 
and  that  tlie  summer  would  never  come. 

His  books  became  tasteless  ;  music  an  annoyance  ;  a  rest- 
lessness, for  which  he  could  not  account,  oppressed  him  ;  and 
twenty  times  he  was  on  the  point  of  starting  for  London,  that 
he  might  either  verify  the  worst  of  his  fears,  or  ease  his  heart 
from  the  anguish  they  occasioned,  by  proving  them  to  be 
groundless.  But  he  shrunk  from  the  contrast  which  his  plain 
and  rustic  manners  would  present  to  that  of  the  elegant  Or- 
ville,  Avho  had  been  his  contemporary  at  Oxford  ;  and  dreaded 
the  ridicule  which  his  homely  and  common  sense  might  draw 
upon  him  in  the  fashionable  circles  in  town.  He  thought  that 
this  contrast  would  not  be  felt  by  Emily  so  much,  while  he 
did  not  put  himself  in  personal  contact  with  those  whom  he 
dreaded  as  his  rivals  ;  he  judged  that  her  memory  would  be 
more  favourable  to  him  than  his  presence  ;  and  determined  it 
to  be  wiser  to  trust  to  her  recollection  of  the  hours  they  had 
passed  together  in  the  country,  and  of  the  sincerity  of  her 
affection,  than  to  make  an  awkward  exhibition  of  his  rusticity 
in  London. 

Uneasy,  therefore,  as  he  was,  he  resolved  to  remain  ;  and 
by  attending  to  his  active  duties  as  a  magistrate  and  a  land- 
lord, attempted  to  relieve  his  restlessness,  and  enliven  the  te- 
dium of  his  present  existence. 

One  morning,  on  inspecting  his  stud,  he  found  his  huntsman 
more  than  usually  officious,  and  more  than  commonly  anxious 
to  detain  him  in  the  stable.  Two  or  three  times  he  seemed 
to  be  on  the  point  of  speaking  about  something  besides  the 
horses  ;  but  the  moment  he  began,  he  turned  off  the  sentence 
into  praises  of  the  brown  filly,  or  lamentation  over  the  lame- 
ness of  the  black  mare.  At  length,  having  literally  compelled 
Forrester  to  look  over  the  whole  stud,  two  or  three  times,  he 
again  hemmed  and  hawed,  and  seemed  big  with  some  import- 
ant communication.  Forrester  turned  to  him  with  evident 
signs  of  attention ;  when,  again  put  out  of  countenance,  Thomas 


120  TUB   OXOMAXS. 

launched  out  about  the  bay  gelding,  and  indulged  hiniself  in 
a  tirade  against  the  farrier,  who  had  put  Lira  in  physic  too 
soon. 

Thi3  dissertation  finished,  Forrester  was  again  departing, 
when  an  "Oh,  but  sir,"   Irom  Thomas,  again  detained  liira. 

"Well,  Thomas?" 

"  Why — sir — you  see — that  Mrs.Tomkins — !Mary,  you  know. 
sir — Miss  Hartley's  maid " 

"  W^ell,  what  of  her  ?"  inquired  Forrester,  interested  about 
any  thing  connected  with  Emily.  "  Wliat  of  her  ?"  asked  he 
rather  impatiently,  as  Thomas  again  came  to  a  full  stop. 

••'  She  certainly  has  got  the  glanders,  sir,  as  you  say " 

"  What,  Mrs.  Tomkins  ?" 

"  God  forbid,  sir !    No  ;  the  brown  mare." 

"  Pshaw.     But  what  of  Mrs.  Tomkins  ?" 

•'  Why  you  know,  sir,"  continued  Thomas,  more  bewildered 
than  ever  at  the  evident  interest  his  master  took  in  his  com- 
munication, "  that  she  wont  toLunnun that  was  before  her 

legs  were  spavined  you  know,  sir." 

'•  Her  legs  spavined  !  Come,  Thomas,  for  once  forget  your 
horses,  and  think  of  your  sweetheart." 

Thomas  smiled,  as  he  said,  *■  Bless  you,  sir,  what  would 
Lightfoot,  and  Ranger,  and  the  Filly  do,  if  I  did  that?" 

'^  Well,  but  what  of  ]Mrs.  Tomkins  ?"  earnestly  repeated 
Forrester,  who  now  began  to  attribute  Thomas's  backward- 
ness of  speech  to  some  hesitation  as  to  what  he  liad  to  com- 
municate. 

•'  Why,  sir,  you  see  she  be  a  scholar,  and  well  educated, 
seeing  as  how  she  can  read  ancLwrite.  That  mare  will  have 
the  staggers  now,  sir." 

*'  Pish  !  never  mind  the  mare's  staggers." 

"But  if  we  don't  mind  them,  vou  know,  sir,  they'll  carrv 
her  off." 

"  But  Mrs.  Tomkins  ?"  repeated  Forrester. 

"  We  must  bleed  her  in  the  mouth,  and  cut  her  tongue." 

"  But  what  of  Mrs.  Tomkins  ?"  reiterated  his  master. 

"  Why,  sir,  you  see,  Mary's  well  trained,  and  can  write  a 
running  hand  as  fast  as  the  filiy  can  gallop.  It  would  do  your 
honour  good  to  see  her  pot-hooks  and  hangers." 

"W'eil,  well,  never  mind  her  pot-hooks  and  hangers.  I 
know  she  is  a  very  nice  young  woman." 

**  As  nice  a  creature,  sir,  as  ever  carried  you  over  a  five- 
barred  gate,  or  came  in  at  the  death,  and  carried  off  the  tail." 

"  Well,  but  what  of  her  ?    Thomas." 


I 


THE  OXOMANS.  121 

*•  Why,  your  honour — that  is — you  see — she  and  I — that  is 
—I  and  she — had  a  kind  of  a  kindness  for  one  another.  Who-a, 
who-a,  Lightfoot — be  quiet,  Ranger.  And  she  had  half  pro- 
mised to  be  my  wife,  sir,  v/hen  she  came  back. — That  Bessy 
Bedlam,  your  honour,  's  quite  a  cheat,  she's  a  crib  biter,  and  I 
can't.cure  her." 

"  Well,  but  Mrs.  Tomkins  ?" 

*'  Oh,  she's  not  like  Bessy  Bedlam.  Well,  sir,  if  it  must 
out,  she's  writ  me  a  letter.'' 

''A  billet-doux,  I  presume,"  said  Forrester,  smiling. 

*'  No,  your  honour,  there's  no  do  in  it.  'Tis  a  downright 
earnest  letter,  and  there  it  is,"  taking  a  piece  of  paper,  crum- 
pled up  into  the  size  of  a  walnut-shell,  out  of  his  green  plush 
small  clothes. 

"  Well,  but  what  V3  this  letter  to  me,  Thomas  ?'' 

"  Oh  nothing,  sir,  only  that  there's  a  kind  of  message  to 
you  in  it." 

<'  A  message !  what,  from  Miss  Hartley  ?"  exclaimed  For- 
rester, with  astonishment. 

"No,  sir,  from  my  Mary,"  said  Thomas.  "  She  tells  me 
to  give  it  to  you  by  some  side  wind,  but  I  was  never  given  to 
turnings  and  windings,  except  turning  a  hare  and  winding  my 
horn  ;  and  so,  sir,  I  thought  it  was  best  to  give  you  the  letter 
itself ;  and  there  it  is,  axing  your  honour's  pardon  for  crump- 
ling it  in  my  breeches-pocket."  And  smoothing  the  letter  out 
with  his  hand,  he  presented  it  to  Forrester. 

Forrester  took  the  letter  with  some  degree  of  agitation. 

'■  But,  Thomas,  is  this  fair,  to  sliow  me  your  sweetheart's 
letter  ?" 

"  Oh  sir,"  replied  Thomas,  "  there  be  nothing  that  slie  or 
1  be  ashamed  of,  sir  ;  it  be  all  fair  and  aboveboard  ;  I  love 
her,  and  she  loves  me,  in  an  honest  sort  of  a  way,  and  we  in- 
tended to  be  married — you  see,  «v — when — when " 

«  When  what  ?   Thomas." 

''  Why,  if  it  must  out,  sir,  we  meant  to  be  married  when 
you  and  Miss  Hartley  made  a  match  of  it." 

Forrester  started  ;  he  felt  his  face  flush,  and  his  heart  beat ; 
and,  becoming  too  much  agitated  to  continue  the  conversation, 
he  opened  the  letter,  when  the  sight  of  Mrs.  Tomkins's  pot- 
hooks and  hangers  soon  convincing  him  that  it  would  require 
some  time  to  decipher  the  contents,  he  ordered  Thomas  to 
attend  him  in  the  library  in  half  an  hour  ;  and  walked  awjiy 
for  the  purpose  of  reading  Mary's  scrawl,  which,  with  som«.' 
difficulty,  he  made  out  to  run  as  follows  ; 

Vol.  l.—  ll 


122  THE   OXOMAKS. 

DGA.R  TOVMAS, 

I  dare  to  say  that  by  this  time  you  must  think  I  have  forgot 
ten  you,  and  all  about  you,  and  our  true  love,  and  not  much 
wunder  if  I  did,  in  this  here  (Mty,  or  obstropolis,  as  they  calls 
it,  wiiich  is  nothing  more  nor  le.-s  than  one  ffrate  Bedlam,  only 
that  the  loonyticks  are  all  loose  mst' ad  of  chained  up  with 
iron  chanes  as  they  are  in  the  Horsepittle.  Oh  Tommas, 
Toramas,  what  a  place  this  Lunnun  is  I  such  rakkettinsi  and 
ricketting  ; — such  settings  up  and  lying  in  bed  ;  ay,  and  lying 
out  of  it  too  ; — such  wickedness  and  galiyvanting  ;  oh  Tom- 
mas I'm  glad  you  didn't  corne  ;  you  wont  therefore  be  sur- 
prised to  hear  that  I  have  been  turne«i  quite  topsy-turvy,  ever 
since  I  came  (though  which  is  my  top?y,  or  which  is  my  turvy,  I 
can't  tell)  ;  for  I  am  quite  buUversy,  as  Mounseer,  Lord  Ilorvils 
French  varlet,  calls  it  in  his  foren  hngo,  which  is  no  more  like 
plane  English  than  a  pea  is  like  a  porridge  pot.  But  bullversy 
means  turned  upside  down,  which  I  am  sure  enough.  Would 
you  believe  it  ?  he  calls  my  mother  a  mare,  and  me  her  filly  ; 
and  though  I  have  but  one  father  he  swears  I've  a  pair  ;  and 
then  he  calls  me  a  moor,  and  praises  my  eyes  and  my  mouth, 
which  he  calls  a  yew  and  bush,  and  makes  French  love  to  me ; 
but  you  needn't  be  afraid  of  him,  Tommas,  for  I  set  too  high  a 
valley  on  English  flesh  and  blood  to  think  of  throwing  myself 
away  upon  a  forriner  ;  and  I  am  quite  shamed,  so  I  am,  to  see 
30  many  young  ladies  bring  home  husbands  from  forrin  parts, 
with  great  whiskers,  to  have  hairs  to  their  estates  ;  no  more 
for  to  compare  with  their  own  Englishmen,  than  Tom  Thum  to 
the  Irish  giant.  Then  for  the  servants,  Lord  bless  me,  Tom- 
mas, they'r*  as  bad  as  their  masters  and  missuses;  such  goings 
on  in  the  stewards'  room,  and  servants'  hall ;  quite  as  bad  as  in 
the  drawing-room  ;  I'm  sure  I  only  virunder  I'm  not  converted, 
but  I  aint ;  I  knows  better,  and  what  will  be  the  end  of  such 
doings  too,  as  I  told  lady  Swires  own  woman  yesterday,  when 

I  caut but  I  won't  tell.     Then  all  the  fam-de-chambres 

dresses  just  like  their  ladies.  They  have  embezzles  and  bus- 
tles of  their  own,  as  big  as  balloons  ;  bless  me  'tis  quite  ston- 
ishing.  But  now,  Tommas,  for  my  pith  ;  1  wants  you  to  give 
your  .iiaster,  Mr.  Forrester,  an  nint.  Miss  Emily  is  getting 
quite  an  atomy  ;  so  I  must  make  no  more  bones,  but  out  with 
it  at  once  ;  for  I  don't  like  her  goings  on  much  more  than  the 
rest  on  em.  Ther's  Lord  Horville,  a  very  nice  gentleman  no 
doubt,  but  a  very  divil  among  the  wimmen,  they  say  ;  he  is 
quite  like  my  young  lady's  shaddy,  who  is  a  shaddy  herself; 
now  I'm  sure  he's  no  better  than  he  should  be,  because  I've 


THE   OXONIANS.  123 

heard  of  one  or  two  of  his  pranks  from  Mounsecr,  and  there- 
fore, dear  Tommas,  I  waxit  you  some  day,  when  you  are  curry 
combing  your  horses,  or  giving  your  so-ho,  so-ho,  or  a  blow- 
ing o  that  are  old  born  of  yours,  that  I  la£F  al  so  ;  just  to  give 
Mr.  Forrester  an  niiit  to  cum  up  here  and  look  arter  his  own, 
or  else  I'm  afeard  it  won't  be  his  own,  and  then  I'm  sure,  poor 
gentleman,  he  would  weep,  and  wale,  and  nasb  his  teeth,  as 
they  say  in  the  scripter,  and  well  he  might.  Now,  Tommas,  do 
this  cleverly.  So  no  more  at  present,  except  my  love  to  the 
dary  made.     As  mounseer  woud  say,  ajew  ajew, 

Mary  Tomkins. 

Much  as  Forrester  was  inclined  to  smile  at  some  parts  of 
this  letter,  he  was  too  sensibly  affected  by  the  conclusion  of  it, 
to  think  of  the  aosurdity  of  its  commencement. 

No  argument  that  he  could  use  to  himself  that  this  was  the 
mei'e  chit  chat  of  a  silly  serving  maid,  could  convince  hiai  that 
sheiwas  mistaken  The  information  was  too  much  \u  conso- 
nance with  his  owii  thoughts  and  fears  not  to  havt:  some 
foundation  in  truth.  He  knew  Lord  Orville  well ;  aiici  it  had 
required  his  utmost  str<ngth  of  mind  not  to  give  way  to  the 
jealous  fears  that  were  inspired  by  the  idea  that  Emily  was 
domesticated  in  the  same  house  with  him. 

Then,  too,  Mrs.  Tomkins  described  her  as  pale  and  thin. 
She  was  then  ill,  and  he  was  away  from  her ;  and  she  away 
from  every  body  whu  loved  her  sincerely.  Who  cou!d  attend 
her  with  thy  affection  and  care  of  her  mother  ?  This  thought 
added  to  the  wretchedness  which  his  other  ideas  had  occa" 
sioned. 

At  first  he  resolved  to  go  with  the  letter  to  the  Grove^ 
where  he  was  certain  to  find  that  both  Mr  Hartley  and  Lady 
Emily  would  participate  in  his  feehngs,  and  immediatelv  set 
off  for  London;  upon  second  thoughts,  however,  he  deter- 
mined not  to  alarm  their  fear>^.  perhaps  unnecessarily  ;  but  he 
found  it  impossible  to  rijuiain  passively  in  the  country  while 
Emily  was  '^itnei  ill,  or  exposed  to  dangers  which  she  might 
not  have  sufficient  experience  to  encounter  with  safety. 

His  iinaijmation  pictured  her  as  subject  to  the  insidious  at- 
tentions of  Lord  Orville,  and  beset  by  the  persuasions  of  his 
mother  ani  sister.  Then  arose  the  tormentin'jf  comparison 
between  himself  <nd  Orville,  and  the  still  more  terrible  recol- 
lection of  his  libertine  principles  with  regard  to  women  ;  prin- 
ciples that  had  rendered  him  notorious  at  Oxford,  and  which. 


1^4  THE   0X0MAN9. 

$0  far  from  concealing,  he  had  there  been  proud  (o  express  and 
to  defend. 

f^ord  Orville,  too,  was  not  like  one  of  those  common  cox- 
combs of  the  world  who  become  contemptible,  from  being  so 
much  wrapped  up  in  themselves.  He  had  great  power;?  of 
mind,  as  well  as  great  elegance  of  manners  ;  and  though  his 
knowledge  might  be  superficial,  yet  its  surface  was  too  bril- 
liant to  permit  a  common  or  a  cursory  observer  to  detect  its 
shallowness. 

In  short,  Orville  was  quite  the  man  to  dazzle  the  imagina- 
tion and  bewilder  the  mind  of  an  inexperienced  young  woman  ; 
and  Forrester  knew  and  acknowledged  this  inwardly,  although 
he  would  have  openly  asserted  Emilys  mind  to  be  too  strong 
to  be  so  dazzled  and  bewildered. 

He  was  in  tliis  perplexity  of  thought  when  Thomas  attended 
him  according  to  his  direction  in  the  library.  Ilis  first  care 
was  to  desire  Thomas  to  be  silent  on  the  subject  of  his  letter, 
and  to  impress  upon  his  mind  that  there  were  no  reasonable 
grounds  for  those  fears  expressed  by  Mrs.  Tomkins ;  but  as 
she  seemed  to  hint  th;il  Miss  Hartley's  health  was  not  so  good 
as  when  she  left  the  Grove,  he  told  Thomas  he  was  resolved 
to  go  to  town  to  ascerl.im  the  fact,  before  he  alarmed  her 
family  by  any  report  or  information  of  that  nature. 

On  hearing  this  determination,  Thomas  became  fidgetly ; 
stood  first  upon  one  leg,  then  upon  the  other,  twirled  his  hat 
between  his  finger  and  his  thumb,  and  made  various  abortive 
efforts  to  speak. 

Forrester  perceived  his  embarrassment,  and  was  too  well 
aware  of  the  nature  of  his  own  feelings  not  to  understand 
those  of  fiis  servant. 

"  What,  you  want  to  go  to  London  too,  eh,  Thomas  ?"' 

"  If  your  honour  has  no  objection,  sir.  The  hors-es  are  all 
in  capital  order,  and  I  could  just  now  be  very  well  spared  ; 
and  I  never  see'd  Lunnun,  sir, — if  you  please." 

"  But,  Thomas,  I  shall  have  no  establishment,  and  if  you 
accompany  me  I  must  take  you  as  my  valet ;  and  as  that  is 
not  your  situation,  you  may,  perhaps,  object." 

"Not  at  all,  sir,  I'm  a  little  like  the  signs  over  the  inn- 
doors,  that  promise  to  do  well  both  for  man  and  beast ;  I  un- 
derstand 'em  both,  sir,  and  to  take  me  to  London  would  be 
conferring  a  favour  on  me,  your  honour." 

"  Well,  then,  tell  Atkins  to  pack  up  my  things  ;  and  do  yoii 
order  two  pair  of  post-horses  for  the  travelling  chariot  to  be 


THE  OXONIANS.  125 

ready  at  six,  and  go  to  the  post-office,  and  desire  them  to  give 
the  guard  of  the  London  mail  a  crown  to  order  relays  all  the 
way  up  to  town  In  the  mean  time  I  will  go  to  the  Grove  to 
see  if  the  family  have  any  commands  for  Miss  Hartley." 

Away  went  Thomas,  delighted  at  having  succeeded  (n  his 
wish  :  for,  in  his  way.  he  was  quite  as  fidgetty  about  "  Moun- 
seer,"  as  Mrs.  Totnkins  called  the  French  "  Varlet,"  as  For- 
rester was  anxious  about  Lord  Orviile ;  and  made  up  his  mind 
to  give  him  what  he  called  a  good  "  leathering,''  provided  he 
found  meet  occasion,  and  a  good  opportunity. 

Forrester's  incipient  doubts  were  but  imaginary;  yet  few 
know,  what  a  true  thing  that  is,  which  is  called  ideal,  so  much 
as  a  jealous  lover ;  he  feels  as  much  pain  in  his  suspicion,  as 
he  would  experience  in  the  certainty  of  his  misfortune.  From 
his  own,  he  had  guessed  at  Thomas's  sentiments,  and  it  was 
rather  a  comfort  to  have  a  companion  for  his  journey  with 
feelings  somewhat  akin  to  his  own,  instead  of  the  apathetic 
Mr,  Atkins,  his  usual  personal  servant. 

"A  fellow-feeling  makes  us  wond'rous  kind." 

Having  made  these  arrangements ;  he  rode  slowly  over  to 
the  Grove,  where  the  family  were  amazingly  surprised  at  his 
sudden  resolution,  which  he  attributed  to  some  unexpected 
business  with  his  lawyers  in  London. 

A  hurried  letter,  and  a  thousand  blessings  and  loves,  were 
all  these  fond  parents  had  time  to  send  their  child.  Forrester 
was,  over  and  over  again,  desired  not  to  be  in  town  an  hour 
without  seeking  her.  A  desire  which  there  was  not  much  oc- 
casion to  repeat  so  often,  to  secure  its  being  complied  with  ; 
and  both  Mr.  Hartley  and  Lady  Emily,  anticipated  the  delight 
with  which  she  would  receive  her  old  and  valued  friend  ;  while 
Forrester  heartily  wished  that  he  might  find  it  so.  As  they 
expressed  these  anticipations,  however,  of  the  pleasure  his 
presence  was  expected  to  create,  a  misgiving  doubt  agonized 
his  mind,  which  he  used  his  utmost  exertion  to  banish ;  and, 
assuming  an  appearance  of  ease  which  he  was  far  from  feeling, 
he  quitted  the  Grove,  gallopped  home  to  the  lodge,  and  in  an 
hour  was  on  the  road  to  London,  with  Thomas  by  his  side, 
travelling  as  fast  as  four  post-horses,  from  the  George,  could 
lay  their  legs  to  the  ground. 

Neither  of  our  travellers  had  very  pleasant  thoughts  by  way 
of  companions.  The  uneasy  and  anxious  meditations,  which 
jealous  doubts  create  in  minds,  where  such  feelings  have 


li-'G  THE    0X0MAX3. 

hitherto  been  strangers,  were  calculated  for  any  thing,  rather 
than  to  lesson  the  tedium  of  their  journey.  Anticipations  ol 
evil  filled  Forrester's  mind,  and  seemed  to  lengthen  every  mile 
of  his  wearisome  journey  to  the  metropolis. 


CHAPTER  XVIf. 

THE    ARRIVAL. 

E'en  among  the  noblest  born, 

Moral  virtue  is  a  scorn  ; 
Gratitude,  but  rare  at  best, 

And  fidelity  a  jest. — Dcke  of  BucKiNCUAJf. 

To  a  man  who  loves  and  enjoys  the  quiet  freedom  of  the^ 
country,  and  to  whom  nature  in  every  variety  presents  a  beauty 
who  derives  as  mucli  pleasure  from  the  clear  frosty  morning, 
when  the  frozen  dew  sparkles  in  a  thousand  jrlittering  gem-like 
drops  on  the  heath-clad  common,  as  he  does  from  the  mild 
morning  of  summer,  when  the  flowers  pour  forth  their  fra- 
grance in  the  fulness  of  their  bloom,  and  the  birds  their  melo- 
dies in  the  plenitude  of  their  joy ;  who  delights  in  a  vigorous 
gallop  over  the  downs,  or  a  sauntering  walk  in  some  se- 
questered glen  ;  and  whose  principal  pleasures  consist  in  thesr 
enjoyments,  and  in  the  freedom  of  a  country  life,  the  prospect 
of  a  crowded  city  affords  any  anticipation  rather  than  that  ol 
pleasure. 

It  was  thus  with  Edward  Forrester ;  who  threw  himself 
back  in  his  carriage  with  disgust,  as  the  gas  lamps,  crowded 
streets,  and  rattling  stones  announced  his  arrival  in  the  metro- 
polis on  the  second  night  of  his  departure  from .  For- 
rester's only  visits  to  London  had  been  his  occasional  trips 
from  Oxford,  and  in  the  first  season  after  his  leaving  college. 
At  that  time  he  passed  a  couple  of  months  there,  with  Lord 
Orville,  and  some  other  of  his  Oxford  companions,  who  had 
quitted  the  banks  of  the  Isis  at  the  same  period.  There  was,, 
however,  a  natural  diflidence  in  Forrester,  that  unfitted  him 
for  general  society.  Ilis  manners  always  wore  the  appear- 
ance of  restraint ;  the  confidence  of  the  women  abashed  him  ; 
and  the  Ubcrtinagc,  and  freedom  of  the  men,  were  not  at  aU 


THE   OXONIANS.  127 

consonant  to  his  own  ideas  either  of  pleasure  or  propriety, 
lie  felt  the  qualities,  which  he  knew  he  possessed,  to  be  lost 
in  the  vortex  of  aniuial  gayety,  by  which  he  was  surrounded  ; 
and,  soon  finding  himself  entirely  out  of  his  element,  he  quitted 
the  gay  throng  ;  and,  seekiiig  more  congenial  scenes,  and  a 
more  worthy  occupation  of  his  time,  in  the  cultivation  of  his 
paternal  j)roperty,  whicli  was  large  ;  and  in  the  pursuit  of 
those  studies,  commenced  at  Oxford  ;  he  became  at  twenty- 
three  a  country  gentleman. 

His  acquaintance  with  the  Hartleys,  together  with  several 
other  high  and  respectable  families  in  his  own  neighbourhood, 
left  him  nothing  to  regret  on  the  score  of  society.  His  duties, 
as  a  country  gentleman  and  as  a  magistrate,  gave  him  plenty 
of  useful  occupation  for  his  time  ;  and  the  growing  beauties  of 
Miss  Emily  Hartley,  at  length  attracting  his  attention,  and 
making  a  deep  impression  on  his  heart,  left  him  nothing  in  the 
world  to  wish,  but  the  completion  of  his  union  with  her  ;  a 
consummation,  that  the  evident  encouragement  of  Mr.  and 
Lady  Emily  Hartley,  who  saw  and  appreciated  his  worth  ;  to- 
gether with  the  warm  friendship  and  growing  attachment  of 
the  young  lady,  who  was  not  insensible  to  it ;  gave  him  every 
reasonable  hope  of  not  being  far  distant. 

The  visit  to  London  was  the  first  circumstance  that  awoke 
Forrester  from  this  delicious  dream.  He  recollected,  with 
dismay,  the  difference  between  his  own  manners  and  those 
which  Emily  would  meet  with  in  the  world,  and  dreade^d,  what 
he  imagined  to  be,  his  own  inferiority.  He  likewise,  though 
living  in  a  solitude  where  he  himself,  and  Emily,  had  enjoyed 
so  many  tranquil  pleasures,  was  perfectly  aware  that  it  was 
but  natural,  that  a  heart  so  young,  and  inexperienced,  should 
delight  more  in  the  gayety  of  the  great  world,  than  in  the  more 
quiet  enjoyments  of  a  mere  country  existence.  Yet  still  he 
thought,  he  had  known  enough  of  her,  to  rest  assured,  that  the 
new  scenes,  to  which  she  was  going,  would  effect  no  essential 
change  in' her  conduct  and  feelings.  The  morning  of  her 
separation,  he  was  more  than  inclined  to  suppose,  that,  had 
he  pressed  his  suit,  she  would  not  have  been  unwilling  to  have 
entered  into  a  positive  engagement  with  him,  and  to  have  ex- 
changed such  promises  as,  he  was  certain,  her  heart  and  con- 
science would  never  have  permitted  her  to  break.  But  For- 
rester was  too  generous  for  such  a  step  as  this  :  he  would  not 
bind  a  person  so  young,  who  had  so  little  experience,  and  who 
was  but  just  on  the  point  of  gaining  more,  by  promises,  w'hich 
it  might  be  a  burden  for  her  hereafter  to  keep,  should  that  ex- 


128  THE   OX0V1XH8. 

perience  she  was  about  to  gain,  induce  her  to  change  her 
opinions.  He  vras  determined  to  await  the  unbiassed  result 
of  lier  new  hfe,  and  to  owe  the  possession  of  tiie  woman  he 
loved  so  ardently,  to  her  own  free  clioice,  after  she  had  seen 
enough  of  the  .vorld,  to  judge  what  was  the  most  calculated 
to  constitute  her  happiness.  It  is,  perhaps,  impossible  to 
describe  the  pain  he  felt  at  the  adoption  of  this  resolution  ;  but 
the  pleasure,  the  delight  lie  anticipated,  should  E^nily  not  dis- 
appoint his  expectation,  consoled  and  supported  him.  Still, 
every  moment  of  her  absence  was  a  moment  of  pain  to  him  ; 
every  reflection  created  a  new  doubt,  and  it  was  nothing  but 
active  exertion  that  preveirted  his  giving  way  to  the  feelings 
which  her  absence  occasioned. 

As  Emily's  letters  to  the  Grove  became  less  frequent,  and 
less  explicit,  these  doubts  increased  ;  and  Mrs.  Tomkin's  let- 
ter only  ignited  that  mine,  with  which  these  doubts  had,  long 
since,  laid  the  train  in  his  heart.  The  moment  he  read  it,  the 
coincidence  of  the  hint,  given  by  the  judicious  waiting-maid, 
with  his  own  feelings,  rendered  it  impossible  for  him  to  remain 
a  moment  longer  in  the  country  ;  and  as  we  have  seen,  he  de- 
termined, at  all  events,  to  brave  a  London  world,  and  once 
more  show  himself  in  that  society,  of  which  a  little  less  mau- 
vaise  honte,  and  a  more  just  appreciation  of  himself,  might 
have  made  him  a  distinguished  ornament. 

His  whole  journey  had  been  one  of  restless  anxiety  ond 
uneasy  anticipation  ;  he  imagined  a  thousand  things,  which  his 
better  judgment  convinced  him  could  not  be,  and  as  he 
approached  the  metropolis,  his  heart  grew  sick  with  apprehen- 
sion. As  to  honest  Thomas,  although  his  feelings  arose  from 
precisely  the  same  source  as  those  of  his  more  sensitive  master, 
they  seemed  only  to  agitate  his  fingers'  ends.  Whenever  the 
idea  of  "  Mounseer"  crossed  his  mind,  his  open  hands  closed 
into  fists  ;  the  eyes  of  the  Frenchman  became,  in  his  imagina- 
tion, of  "  rainbow  tint,"  and  hits,  right  and  left,  were  planted 
upon  the  unfortunate  person  of  the  French  valet  by  anticipation. 
So  strong  was  this  impression  on  his  mind,  that  once,  while 
asleep,  and,  we  presume,  dreaming  of  Mrs.  Tomkins  and  his 
rival,  he  put  himself  into  a  boxing  attitude,  and  w  ilh  one  hand, 
had  nearly  knocked  off  his  master's  travelling  cap,  while  with 
the  other  he  dashed  through  the  carriage  window,  to  the  great 
discomfiture  of  his  knuckles,  which  were  considerably  cut  by 
theglass  which  he  had  demolished. 

The  appearance  of  London,  however,  which  had  disgusted 
I'^orrester,  and  brought  to  his  mind,  with  tenfold  force,  the 


»  THE    0X0MAX9.  129 

fears  with  which  he  was  oppressed  ;  produced  quite  a  different 
effect  uoori  pbor  Thomas.  Dazzled  by  the  hght?,  bewildered 
by  the  people,  he  stared  with  an  intensity,  that  would  have 
made  one  suppose  he  was  looking  out  for  the  golden  pavement, 
with  which  countrymen  have  proverbially  covered  the  streets 
of  the  metropolis.  The  Frenchman,  his  jealousy  and  anger, 
and  even  Mary  Tomkins  herself,  seemed  to  have  quitted  his 
memory,  as  he  gazed  in  stupid  astonishment,  at  the  crowded 
and  lighted  streets. 

As  the  carriage  passed  Hyde  Park  corner,  the  postboys 
drew  up,  and  touching  their  hats,  asked  where  they  were  to 
drive. 

Thomas  only  stared  with  open  eyes  and  gaping  mouth, 
unable  to  reply  for  his  extreme  astonishment 

Forrester  mechanically  answered,  "The  Clarendon;"  the 
ideas  of  the  com'brt  of  that  establishment,  with  the  gentlemanly 
bonhommie  of  its  host,  being  minglefl  with  the  remembrance 
of  the  rank  it  held  among  the  temporary  domiciles  of  fashion. 

The  name  of  the  Clarendon  seemed  to  inspire  the  post- 
boys ;  and  away  they  dashed,  in  a  gallof)  that  was  quite  worthy 
of  the  place  to  which  they  were  directed  ;  and  where  Forrester 
was  speedily  dcimiciliated,  with  a  mixture  of  snlf^ndour,  and 
comfort,  quite  equal  to  the  best  regulated  domestic  establish- 
ment. 

Forrester's  arrival  happened  on  one  of  the  nights  upon  which 
Lady  Orville  was  at  home,  to  about  five  hundred  of  her  fripnds; 
ecarte,  whist,  and  other  games  occupied  some  of  the  elders  of 
the  assembly  ;  while  quadrilles,  conversMion,  music,  and  flirt- 
ing were  quite  on  the  (jui  vive  \n  the  other  apartments. 

Lady  Sophia,  as  usual,  had  taken  care  to  occupy  Hartley  ; 
as  it  was  one  of  the  schemes  of  f  ;ady  Orville  so  to  archer  his 
attention  to  her  daughter  in  public,  as  to  give  her  an  apology 
for  requiring  that  kind  of  explanation,  from  which  so' fewr 
young  men  escape  from  an  experienced  woman,  without 
making  a  proposal,  of  which  they  had  no  mtention  at  the  com- 
mencement of  the  explanation. 

By-the-by,  while  we  are  on  this  subject,  let  us  just  give  a 
hint  to  grandmammas,  mammas,  aunts,  and  chaperons  ;  that 
the  very  worst  thing  they  can  do  is,  to  engage  the  male  part  of 
the  family  in  the  requisition  of  this  explanation.  We  have  not 
only  known  this  method  fail  in  many  instances,  where  no  posi- 
tive motives  had  influenced  the  attentions  of  a  gentleman  ;  but 
in  several  where  the  interference  of  a  brother,  or  a  cousin,  has 
positively  prevented  the  very  circumstance,  which  it  was  m- 


ISO  THE   OXOKIANS. 

tended  to  accelerate.  Many  nnen  may  be  wheedled — (ew  can 
be  bullied.  Besides,  what  sort  of  opinion  can  a  man's  wife 
have  of  a  husband,  who  has  only  been  induced  to  assume  that 
title  out  of  fuar  of  her  relations  ;  and  even  if  it  does  not  alter 
her  opinion  of  her  euro  sposo,  it  must  certainly  diminish  the 
sense  of  those  attractions,  wliich  required  such  extraneous  aid 
to  accomplish  her  wishes  ;  and  no  woman  ever  imbibed,  from 
ber  husband,  .i  less  idea  of  herself,  without  its  being,  in  time, 
accompanied  by  a  diminution  of  her  respect  for  him.  Self- 
esteem  is,  indeed,  a  great  thermometer  of  our  feelings  towards 
others.  The  self-pleased  husband  is  always  the  most  pleased 
with  his  wife,  and  '•  vice  versa,"  as  George  Colman  says. 

Ji-eaily  we  owe  our  readers  an  apology  for  these  various  di- 
gressions ;  but  we  cannot  help  them.  Ideas  will  crow<l  upon 
us,  and  opinions  will  thrust  themselves  into  our  pai^es,  whether 
we  will  or  no  ;  and  our  book  really  must  be  taken,  like  the 
wives  we  have  just  been  speaking  of,  f(»r  better  for  worse. 

As  it  was  one  of  the  plans  of  Lady  Orville  t(/  make  the  con- 
duct of  Hartley  to  Lady  Sophia  as  public  as  possible  ;  so  was 
it  a  scheme  of  Lord  Orville's,  '.vithout  any  positive  intention  of 
marriage,  to  make  his  attentions  to  En»ily  sufficiently  visible 
to  the  world  for  him  to  be  set  down  -\s  her  accepted  lover,  and 
to  prevent  the  Intrusion  of  others. 

Orville  felt  the  prudence  of  his  mother's  schemes,  but  he  had 
unfortunately  s.'en  too  mui;h  of  married  lite  and  marriufl  women, 
to  take  the  yoke  upon  iiims«^lf,  without  mi'nh  deliberation  ;  and 
C(>nVLiiiei't  as  he  acknowledt/ed  to  himself  it  would  be,  to  enjoy 
suchafoiiuneas  thai  which  Miss  Ilar'ley  would  probably  p(>f;sess, 
together  with  tiie  iiifluein-e  of  her  fauiily  ;  yet  matrimony  was 
too  bitter  a  pi!'  to  be  gil 'ed  over  by  these  advantages,  to  one 
who  had  so  little  rCijarit  to  its  sacred  institution  as  Orville. 
He  valued  his  freedom  too  bin-hly  to  sacrifice  it  easily  ;  and 
though  marriei!  life,  in  a  certain  class  of  society,  can  scarcely 
be  said  to  bring  that  thraldom  upon  a  husband  which  it  does 
in  the  inferior  orders,  or  indeed  to  impose  any  very  great  re- 
striction upon  their  conduct ;  yet  there  is  a  certain  sen^e  of 
placing  one's  honour  in  the  keeping  of  another,  which  renders 
it  nearly  impossible  for  a  husband  to  be  guilty  of  any  derelic- 
tion, without  having  a  natural  fear  that  perhaps  bis  conduct  to 
others  may  be  returned  in  kind. 

Attracted,  however,  by  the  beauty  of  Emily,  he  could  not 
resist  paying  her  the  attentions  which  his  mother  prescribed ; 
but  these  were  accompanied  by  no  fixed  motives.  Sometimes 
he  canvassed  the  propriety  of  making  her  his  wife  ;  and  some 


THE   OXONIANS.  131 

times,  as  his  knowledge  of  woman's  nature  made  him  see  how 
agreeable  his  attentions  were,  and  how  excitable  was  every 
emotion  of  her  susceptible  heart,  he  almost  conceived  hopes  of 
another  nature.  In  this  undecided  state  of  mind,  uncertain  of 
his  own  purpose,  he  pursued  the  course  of  ajiche'ing  his  atten- 
tions ;  and  succeeded  in  the  unworthy  motive  of  making  the 
world  suppose  that  they  were  agreeable  to  Emily,  and  that  he 
was  the  happy  object  of  her  affections. 

What  a  strange  feeling  is  this  vanity,  which  is  so  predomi- 
nant in  mankind !  and  what  infinite  mischief  does  it  entail  on 
one  sex,  while  it  renders  the  other  so  contemptible  !  Yet  one 
can  hardly  tell  which  is  the  most  blameable ;  the  man  who 
pays  unmeaning  attentions,  or  the  woman  who  encourages 
them  for  the  vanity  which  they  gratify  ;  and  we  fear  that  the 
one  is  quite  as  often  the  case  as  the  other. 

On  this,  night  Lord  Orville  had  been  more  particular  than 
ever  in  his  attentions  to  Emily.  Some  of  his  companions  had 
ralHed  him  as  a  lost  man,  others  had  congratulated  him  as  a 
happy  one.  Some  swore  that  he  was  going  into  the  leading 
strings  of  matrimony,  while  those  who  knew  him  better,  trem- 
bled for  the  happiness  of  the  object  of  such  marked  attentions 
from  such  a  man.  , 

Emily  had  scarcely  danced  with  any  one  else  the  whole  eve- 
ning. She  had  received  all  the  compliments  with  which  the 
dazzling  beauty  of  her  appearance  had  been  greeted,  with  in- 
difference ;  but  she  lent  an  attentive  ear  to  the  insidious,  the 
brilUant  conversation  of  Orville.  The  Continent,  its  manners, 
and  its  literature  had  been  the  principal  subject  on  which  they 
had  conversed.  Its  freedom  had  been  extolled,  and  all  the 
worst  sentiments  of  Rousseau,  Voltaire,  the  Crebillons,  and 
the  whole  set  of  those  who  have  devoted  so  much  wit  to  un- 
dermine principle,  had  been  pressed  into  the  conversation  of 
Lord  Orville,  as  though  they  were  his  own.  Dazzled  by  the 
brilliancy  of  his  arguments,  she  did  not  perceive  their  sophis- 
try ;  and  entertained  by  the  novelty  of  his  propositions  and 
assertions,  she  did  not  take  time  to  ascertain  their  correctness, 
or  to  detect  their  falsehood. 

In  the  midst  of  one  of  their  conversations,  a  lady,  who  was 
leaning  over  the  back  of  the  sofa,  exclaimed,  "  Bless  me,  Miss 
Hartley,  who  is  that  grave-looking  gentleman,  watching  you 
with  such  anxious  looks  ?" 

Emily  and  Lord  Orville  both  looked  up  at  the  same  moment, 
and  both  started  at  perceiving  Forrester  standing  a  very  few 
paces  from  them,  and  watching  them  with  evident  anxiety. 


132  THK    OXOXIAN9. 

Emily  blushed  as  she  saw  him,  and  though  the  full  tide  oi 
tlie  remembrance  of  home  rushed  upon  her  heart,  at  the  siglit 
of  one  so  nearly  connected  with  all  tlie  scenes  of  her  earU 
years;  yet  these  feelings  experienced  a  total  revulsion  as  she 
recollected  Lord  Orvilie's  presence.  'Ihe  moment  that  he 
saw  himself  perceived,  Forrester  advanced.  His  heart  leaped 
with  joy  as  he  caught  the  glance  of  recognition  and  pleasure 
with  which  her  countenance  beamed  at  the  first  sight  of  him  ; 
but  was  repressed  with  agony  at  the  cold  reception  which  he 
met  with  on  his  advance.  The  fact  w.is,  that  at  the  very  mo- 
ment she  was  holding  out  her  hand  in  the  full  remembrance  of 
her  home,  and  pf  her  former  sentiments  for  Forrester,  Emily 
caught  Lord  Orville's  eye  fixed  upon  her,  with  a  scrulinizin" 
glance,  in  which  a  satiric  smile  was  mingled  with  an  appear- 
ance of  mtense  anxiety.  This,  in  a  moment,  prevented 
any  exhibition  of  natural  feeling  ;  and  Forrester's  first  geeting 
with  the  woman  in  whose  hands  he  had  placed  the  whole  hap- 
]»iness  of  his  life,  was  passed  in  a  few  formal  inquiries  about 
her  family  and  the  Grove. 

Directly  that  Orville  saw  he  had  sufllcient  influence  ovci 
Emily  thus  to  regulate  her  reception  of  Forrester  within  the 
bounds  of  mere  polite  recognition,  he  greeted  him  warmly 
as  an  old  Oxonian. 

"  What,  my  old  friend  Forrester  ?"  said  he  ;  "  I  am  de- 
lighted to  see  you  among  us  again  ;  why,  man,  I  was  afraid 
you  had  buried  yourself  amid  the  groves  of  your  estate  ;  and 
really  never  cx[)ected  to  hear  of  you  again,  excepting  through 
the  medium  of  an  epitaph.  But  what  in  the  name  of  wonder 
has  brought  you  here,  while  I  thought  you  were  as  deeply 
rooted  at  Forrester  Lodge  as  one  of  its  old  and  respectable 
oaks." 

*'  And  I  am  afraid.  Lord  Orville,  that  I  shall  bear  trans- 
])lanting  quite  as  badly  as  one  of  those  very  oaks  you  speak  , 
of,  for  I  feel  that  they  would  not  be  much  more  misplaced  here,  j 
than  their  master,"  replied  Forrerter. 

"  Quite  as  modest  as  ever — I  see.  But,  my  dear  Forrester, 
liow  will  the  country  get  on  without  you  ?  Surely,  the  Bench 
of  Country  Justices  will  s'op  in  their  progress  for  want  of 
their  oracle  !  and  we  shall  have  nothing  but  appeals  agaiii>t 
their  convictions  and  commitments  at  all  the  Sessions  in  the 
country."  ' 

*'  Your  Lordship  is  either  pleased  lobe  satirical,  or  to  over- 
rate my  humble  cxertiohs  among  the  Magistracy,"  replied 
Forrester,  irravolv. 


THE    OXONIAKS.  133 

''  Nay,  my  dear  Forrester ;  I  see  you  are  as  matter-of-fact 
As  ever,  and  cannot,  for  the  life  you,  understand  a  little  rail- 
lery. But  come,  here  are  plenty  of  our  old  Christ-church  fel- 
lows, who  will  be  delighted  to  see  you  in  London." 

So  saying,  and  feeling  the  necessity  of  getting  him  away 
from  Emily  while  the  feelings  of  his  first  appearance  were 
still  fresh,  and  before  the  dormant  sentiments  of  her  heart 
were  awakened  by  his  presence,  he  led  Forrester  away  to 
Jjangley,  who  stood  surrounded  by  a  host  of  old  Oxonians, 
who,  leaving  some  dozens  of  young  ladies  to  sit  as  wall-flowers, 
and  sigh,  in  vain,  for  partners,  were  enjoying  the  brilliancy  of 
iiis  conversation.  Forrester  was  received  with  hearty  greetings 
by  all  his  old  companions  ;  but  nothing  gave  him  more  plea- 
sure than  the  renewal  of  his  acquaintance  with  Langley.  He 
was  quite  aware  of  the  change  in  his  prospects,  and  the  mo- 
ment he  had  heard  of  it,  had  invited  him  to  the  Lodge  ;  in 
the  hope  of  his  being  able  to  hit  upon  some  plan,  which  might 
relieve  the  bitterness  of  his  disappointment. 

Langley,  on  his  part,  returned  the  warm  pressure  of  his 
friend's  hand  ;  and,  though  a  slight  blush  rose  upon  his  coun- 
tenance, as  he  remembered  how  differently  he  "was  circum- 
stanced when  they  last  met,  the  feeling  soon  passed  away  in 
the  gratitude  with  which  he  recollected  Forrester's  kind  in- 
vitation on  the  occasion,  and  which  his  marriage  had  been  the 
sole  reason  of  his  declining. 

"  Why,  Langley,  your  wit  seems  to  possess  the  power  of 
Orpheus,"  exclaimed  Orville,  "  for  you  have  literally  given 
animation  to  Forrester ;  who,  till  he  heard  your  voice,  was  as 
silent  as  one  of  his  own  trees  ;  or,  perhaps  like  the  statue  of 
Memnon,  he  requires  the  sun  of  wit  to  shine  upon  him  before 
he  condescends  to  utter  a  sound.  However,  we  are  really 
glad  to  see  you  here,  Forrester,  once  more  in  civilized  so- 
ciety." 

"  You  do  me  honour,"  said  Forrester,  to  whom  this  raillery 
gave  absolute  pain  ;  "  but  I  fear  I  shall  make  but  a  con- 
temptible addition  toasociety  where gayety  and  wit  preside  ;" 
and  he  recollected  with  agony  that  it  was  only  love  and  fear 
that  drove  him  into  its  vortex. 

"  Why,  Forrester,  you  look  melancholy  ;  what,  already  re- 
gretting your  shady  groves !  or,  perhaps,  some  rustic  love  left 
behind  in  the  country.  Some  intended  Mrs.  Forrester,  the 
future  Lady  Bountiful  of  your  estate  ?  The  prospective 
maker  of  potions,  and  distributer  of  coals,  soup,  and  blankets 
to  your  tenantry,  eh  ?" 

Vol.  L— 12 


134  THE   OXOMANS. 

"  No  ;  I  have  left   none  behind   me  to  regret,"  said  For 
raster,  laying  almost  unconsciously  a  peculiar  emphasis  on  the 
word  "  behind,"  and  he  internally  breathed  a   heartfelt  wish 
that  he  had  done  so. 

*'  Ah,  Forrester,  you  are  a  sly  fellow :  no  wonder  nature 
had  such  delights  for  you,  while  she  displayed  herself  in  such 
charms  as  Miss  Emily  Hartley  possesses." 

The  name  grated  on  his  ear  when  pronounced  by  Orville  ; 
and  his  heart  shrunk  from  an  allusion  which  seemed  to 
hint  that  his  passion  was  not  unknou'n  to  the  gay  peer.  He. 
however,  rallied  himself  sufficiently  to  say, 

"  Miss  Hartley  is,  indeed,  one  of  the  fairest  specimens  of 
nature's  workmanship,  both  in  person  and  mind." 

"  Why,  you  praise  her  with  the  cold  science  of  a  connoisseur, 
and  the  frigidity  of  a  stoical  philosopher,"  said  Orville  ;  "  we. 
in  our  regions,  are  not  content  with  such  frozen  praise  of  a 
beauty,  who  has  created  the  greatest  sensation  of  the  season. 
She  is  our  reigning  toast ;  isn't  she  ?"  and  the  circle  nodded 
assent.  "  There  is  not  a  heart  left  among  us  since  her  ap- 
pearance— is  there  ?"  and  again  a  general  assent  was  given. 
"  She  is,  indeed,  charming.  Her  eyes  are  of  the  celestial  blue, 
■which  Michael  Aiigelo  has  chosen  for  his  Madonna,  while  her 
form  might  have  served  for  the  model  which  has  enabled  Ca- 
nova  to  emulate  the  sculptor  of  the  Medician  Venus." 

The  heart  of  Forrester  sickened  as  he  heard  these  praises  of 
Emily  from  the  lips  of  Orville.  His  own  sensitive  passion  was 
of  too  delicate  a  nature  to  indulge  in  the  praise  of  its  object 
to  indifferent  persons  ;  and  he  considered  Emily  as  a  subject 
too  sacred  for  such  a  public  discussion  of  her  merits.  He 
shrunk  from  her  beauties  being  thus  canvassed  by  a  set  of 
young  men  who,  perhaps,  only  looked  upon  her  charms  with 
the  eyes  of  libertines  ;  and,  alarmed  and  disgusted,  he  retired 
from  the  circle,  thinking  to  seek  a  temporary  retirement,  and 
to  lose  a  sense  of  his  pain  in  the  thickest  of  the  crowd. 

This  was  unlike  Orville's  general  conduct ;  but  he  knew  the 
sensitive  disposition  of  Forrester  well,  and  was  aware  that 
nothing  was  so  likely  to  drive  him  back  again  into  the  country 
as  a  perpetual  system  of  badinage. 

He  was  perfectly  aware  that  family's  heart  had  not  yet  been 
so  entirely  deadened  to  her  former  predilections,  but  that  the 
sight  of  Forrester  might  revive  the  tenderness  of  their  remem- 
brance. These  feelings  were  as  yet  only  stifled,  not  eradicated, 
by  the  bustle  and  excitement  in  which  she  lived. 

He  determined,  therefore,  to  drive  him  from  the  field  by  ridi- 


THE  OXONIANS.  135 

€ule,  which  should  lower  him  in  the  estimation  of  Emily,  and 
alarm  him  by  the  display  of  the  power  of  her  charms  and  the 
number  of  rivals  with  whom    he   would   have   to  contend. 
Orville  likewise  derived  an  additional  zest  to  his  pursuit  in  the 
idea  of  successfully  rivalling  one  whose  conduct  and  philosophy 
was  such  a  complete  satire  upon  his  own  system.     Forrester 
watched  Emily  at  a  distance  the  whole  evening,  and  saw,  with 
a  pain  which  he  vainly  attempted  to  banish  from  his  heart,  that 
her  hand  was  sought  for  every  dance  by  the  gayest  and  highest 
persons  in  the  room  ;  and  between  these  and  himself  he  could 
not  refrain  from  drawing  comparisons  by  no  means  favourable 
to  his  own  pretensions.     Tired  of  a  scene,  the  gayety  of  which 
was  such  a  contrast  to  his  own  thoughts  and  feelings,  and  in  the 
midst  of  which  he  felt  like  some  wandering  and  uneasy  spirit, 
he  quitted  the  rooms  in  disi^ust ;  but  not  without  having  been 
subjected  to  the  blandishment  of  the  elegant  hostess,  who  only 
added  to  his  pain  by  the  display  of  her  irresistible   manners. 
Forrester  drove  to  his  hotel   more  than  half  confirmed  in  the 
truth  of  his  fears,  and  throwmg  himself  dressed  upon  his  bed, 
he  gave  way  to  the  agonies  of  his  soul  at  the  idea  of  losing 
one  whom  he  had  hitherto  looked  upon  as  his  own.     He  recol- 
lected, however,  that  he  had,  as  yet,  seen  her  only  in  the  midst 
of  a  gay  and  giddy  crowd,  where  the  perpetual  attentions  she 
received  made  her  no   longer   mistress  of  her  own   actions. 
He  hoped  therefore  that  in  the  quiet  of  the  morning  he  might 
find  her  still  the  same  unsophisticated  girl  she  had  quitted  the 
country  ;   he  began  to  blame  himself  for  judging  too  hastily, 
and  reflected  that  a  crowded  party  was  not  the  place  for  him 
to  have  sought  a  first  interview,   or  a  proper  opportunity  for 
Emily  to  have  displayed  her  real   pleasure   at   his  presence. 
With  reflections  such  as  these  he  contrived  at  length  to  quiet 
his  mind  and  heart ;   although  he  envied  the  glee  with  which 
Thomas  boasted  of  the  little  success  of  his  French  rival,  and 
of  the  complete  "  set  down"  which  he  had  given  Mounseer. 

In  the  mean  time,  every  attempt  was  made  on  the  part  of 
Lord  Orville  and  his  family  to  prevent  any  effect  being  pro- 
duced upon  their  plans  by  the  sudden  appearance  of  For- 
rester. His  mauvaise  honte  was  descanted  upon  ;  the  country 
determined  as  his  proper  sphere,  and  his  quick  disappearance 
from  the  party  made  use  of  as  an  argument  against  him  ;  till, 
half  forgetting  all  her  former  ideas  of  his  excellence,  Emily 
became  ashamed  of  defending  her  old  friend,  and  partly  influ 
enced  by  the  opinions  of  those  about  her. 

Lady  Orville  was,  however,  alarmed  lest  the  visit  of  For 


136  THE    0X0MAI7S. 

rester  should  throw  difficulties  in  the  way  of  the  accomplish- 
ment of  her  plans.  She  dreaded  his  strong  common  sense, 
and  the  representations  he  might  make  of  what  he  might  ob- 
serve as  to  t/ie  dissipations  of  Orville  House,  which  were  of  a 
character  quite  sufficient  to  alarm  a  less  tender  and  tenacious 
mother  than  Lady  Emily  Hartley ;  while  she  doubted  whether 
either  Emily  or  Hartley  were  sufficiently  impressed  with  the 
opinions  she  wished  them  to  entertain  of  Lord  Orville  and  his 
sister,  to  make  them  for  a  moment  hesitate  in  obeying  the 
slightest  of  her  wishes.  There  was  also  something  about  For- 
rester himself,  that  in  spite  of  her  ridicule,  inspired  her  with  a 
degree  of  respect  that  she  very  seldom  felt  for  any  of  his  sex  ; 
and  she  was  not  quite  so  given  up  to  the  follies  and  vices  of 
those  among  whom  she  had  so  long  existed,  as  to  be  insensible 
to  the  power  such  a  man  might  have  over  a  wnman's  heart. 

Divested  of  the  tinsel  of  brilliant  manners,  outward  ac- 
complishments, and  fashionable  coxcombry,  she  couid  not  but 
acknowledge  the  inferiority  of  the  generality  of  those  men  by 
whoiij  her  parties  were  filled,  to  the  unassuming  Forrester ; 
and  felt,  in  the  sentiments  which  he  had  inspired  in  her  own 
breast,  a  much  more  formidable  rival  to  her  son,  than  that 
young  p»  er,  in  his  own  self-sufficiency,  would  acknowledge  in 
a  mere  worthy  country  gentleman. 

Anxious  upon  this  point,  she  took  the  opportunity  of  the 
close  of  the  party  o*  urging  the  point  with  Lord  Orville  ;  and 
taking  his  arm  to  her  dressing-room,  "  Orville,"  said  she,  "  I 
am  anxious  to  know  how  you  succeed  with  Emily." 

"  Admirably  !  I  think  we  have  quite  annihilated  any  little 
chance  that  Forrester  might  have  had  of  remaining  in  possession 
of  her  heart;"  replied  Orville.  in  that  tone  of  careless  cox- 
combry with  which  he  generally  addressed  a  mother  who  had 
inspired  him  with  so  little  respect. 

Lady  Orville  shook  her  head,  then  musing  for  a  moment, 
■'  But  your  marriage  with  her  ?" 

'♦  That,  madam,  is  not  quite  resolved  on." 

**  I  know  very  well,  Orville,  that  you  have  not  absolutely 
asked  the  question — But  then — " 

"  O,  pardon  me,  madam,  I  do  not  apprehend  any  objection 
on  her  part  ;"  interrupted  he,  with  self-sufficiency. 

"  What  then  ?  my  son." 

"  Why  I  have  not  at  all  made  up  my  mind  on  the  subject  o^ 
uiarriage." 

"  How  ? — why,  Orville — you  wouldn't '* 

«« That  I  don't  know,  ma'am." 


I 


THE  OXOMANS.  137 

"  But  what  can  you  want  in  a  wife  that  Miss  Emily  Hartley 
does  not  possess  ?"  asked  Lady  Orville.     '*  Her  beauty '* 

"Is  exquisite,  I  allow,"  said  Orville;  "enough  so  for  a 
mistress,  too  much  so  perhaps  for  a  wife ;"  interrupted  Or 
ville,  as  he  took  a  pinch  of  snuff. 

"  What,"  asked  Lady  Orville,  "  is  not  beauty  one  of  youi 
requisites  in  a  wife  ?" 

"  In  a  neighbour's — a  friend's — yes,  ma'am  ;  in  one's  own 
— 'tis  a  difficult  matter  to  solve,  and  I  have  not  quite  made  up 
my  miud ;"  replied  Orville,  with  that  appearance  of  insuf- 
ferable coxcombry  which  he  so  well  knew  how  to  assume. 

"  But  then,  her  immense  fortune — the  influence  of  her 
family — and  my  wishes  ?"  pursued  Lady  Orville. 

"  These  are  certainly  arguments  in  her  favour — particularly 
the  latter."  This  was  said  with  a  drawling  and  rather  a  sati- 
rical tone,  at  which  Lady  Orville  bit  her  lip.  "  But  you  know 
I  am  somewhat  of  a  roving  disposition,  and  I  am  not  quite 
certain  that  I  should  flirt  with  so  much  freedom  with  other 
men's  wives  abroad,  while  I  thought  there  was  one  with  whom 
my  friaids  might  think  proper  to  return  the  compliment  at 
home." 

Lady  Orville  again  bit  her  lip,  indignantly.  There  was  a 
Avant  of  filial  respect  in  the  expression  of  such  sentiments 
which  she  felt  bitterly,  and  yet  dared  not  reprove,  lest  the 
altercation  might  produce  observations  that  she  dared  not 
court,  and  could  meet  only  with  anger. 

With  a  forced  smile,  therefore,  she  faintly  said,  "  Orville,  you 
are  incorrigible  ;  but  do  not  throw  away  the  golden  harvest  I. 
have  prepared  for  you,  and  pray  let  it  be  a  double  marriage. 
Good-night!"  and  she  hastily  retreated  into  her  dressing- 
room  to  hide  the  bitter  and  indignant  feelings  excited  by  his 
disrespect.  Feelings  doubly  painful  from  the  conviction  that 
her  conduct  had  afforded  but  too  much  apology  for  such  treat- 
ment. Orville  bowed  lowly  as  the  dressing-room  door  shut 
him  from  her  sight ;  and  as  he  crossed  the  vestibule,  he  half 
thought  and  half  soliloquized  ;  "  A  double  marriage,  my  Lady 
mother  seems  to  be  of  the  same  opinion  with  he,  who  thought 
it  some  consolation  to  be  hanged  in  company."  Then  hum- 
ming an  Italian  air,  he  entered  the  private  unblazoned  carriage 
in  which  his  secret  expeditions  were  generally  undertaken,  and 
drove  to Square,  the  worthy  son  of  such  a  mother ! 


12* 


rS3  TAB   OXOJflAW?. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

CONTRASTS. 

Thou  art  all  a  lie. 

Lady  Orville  had  truly  described  herself  as  a  busy  womaii. 
in  the  midst  of  a  busy  world — for  her  plots  and  intrigues  were 
so  numerous,  embraced  so  many  objects,  and  diverged  into  so 
many  ramifications,  that  her  active  mind  was  for  ever  on  the 
stretch   of  full   employment.     With  that  influence,  however, 
which  she  derived  from  the  adventitious  circumstances  of  rank 
and  fortune,  what  a   vast  deal   of  real  good  might  not  have 
emanated  from  a  mind  possessed  of  so  much  energy  ;  but  the 
irratification  of  one  early  bias — the  being  overpowered  by  onr 
youthful  passion,  occasioning  a  first  dereliction  from  moral 
principle,  turned  her  from  good  to  evil.     Instead  of  retracing 
l»er  steps — instead  of  regaining  the  position  she  had  lost  in 
her  own  opinion,  she  thought  only  of  the  preservation  of  that 
of  others  ;  certain,  that  as  long  as  she  succeeded  in  this  ob- 
ject, in  a  worldly  sense,  she  was  secure.     Lady  Orville  hacl 
early  loved  with  that  passionate  fondness  which  women  of  hci 
temperament  only  know.     This  feeling  had  been  excited  by  r 
man  well  calculated  to  give  an  ingenuous  woman  a  notion  of 
the  perfection  of  human  nature,  as  far  as  person  and  accom 
plishments  were  concerned.     He  had  been  struck  by  her  pe 
culiar   style   of  beauty — her  raven   tresses — her   dark   eye, 
changing  in  its  colour  and  brightness  with   the  varying  senti- 
ments of  her  soul — her  form,  growing,  with  her  mind,  into 
premature  and  precocious  womanhood,  were  all  calculated  (<» 
ignite  the  uncontrolled  passions  of  a  libertine  ;  and  such,  in 
deed,  in  the  full  extent  of  the  word,  was  the  man  upon  whom 
Lady  Cecilia  Devereux  had  fixed  the  first  passionate  feelings 
of  her  young  heart. 

Almost  domesticated  together,  from  the  near  connexion  ex- 
isting between  their  different  families  ;  every  opportunity  was 
afforded  to  Arlington  to  cultivate  and  increase  the  growing 
passion,  of  which,  young  as  he  was,  his  experience  in  woman 
soon  made  him  strongly  sensible.     Deluded  by  bis  attentions. 


THE   OXONIANS.  139 

Cecilia,  on  her  part,  never  avoided  him  :  she  was  too  proud 
to  imagine  for  a  moment  that  any  man  could  have  other  in- 
tentions towards  a  woman  of  her  rank  than  those  of  mar- 
riage ;  she  felt  that  she  loved  him  with  her  whole  soul,  and, 
unused  to  curb  her  inclinations,  or  to  restrain  her  caprice,  she 
gave  herself  up  to  the  society  of  one,  who,  to  use  her  own 
words,  had  first  called  her  heart  and  its  feelings  into  existence. 
Lady  Cecilia  had  heard  and  read  of  seduction  and  de- 
sertion ;  and,  with  the  rest  of  her  sex,  hiad  shuddered  at  and 
vituperated  the  villanies  of  men.  But  she  thought  these  cir- 
cumstances only  took  place  with  inferior  orders  of  women, 
and  never  imagined  any  man,  however  presumptuous,  would 
for  a  moment  contemplate,  or  ever  be  guilty  of,  such  conduct 
towards  herself. 

Her  insidious  love  encouraged  this  self-security,  at  the  same 
time  that  Arlington  fed  the  high  passions  which  endangered  it 
by  every  means  in  his  power.  Delicate  sentiments,  subversive 
of  moral  principles,  were  inculcated  ;  a  style  of  reading  which 
eifectually,  though  gradually,  undermines  a  strict  sense  and 
respect  for  virtue,  was  introduced  ;  and  Lady  Cecilia  only 
awakened  from  her  delirium  to  find  herself  one  of  those  se- 
duced and  deserted  beings  which  she  supposed  to  belong  only 
to  a  different  order  of  society  ;  and  the  victim  of  one  of  those 
men  whose  conduct  she  had  vituperated,  and  whose  power  she 
had  despised. 

When  she  first  discovered  that  Arlington  never  intended  to 
make  her  his  wife,  or  at  least  had  changed  his  purpose,  her  proud 
heart  could  scarcely  restrain  from  taking  such  a  vengeance 
upon  her  betrayer,  as  would  have  exposed  herself  and  ruined 
her  name  for  ever.  Her  only  confidant,  however,  had  suf- 
ficient prudence  to  regulate  the  violence  of  her  passions,  so 
as  to  secure  the  preservation  of  her  fame.  This  lady,  en- 
treating, and  succeeding  in  procuring,  Arlington's  temporary 
absence  ;  urged  the  immediate  acceptance  of  the  old  Earl  of 
Orville,  who  had  long  been  a  suitor  to  Lady  Cecilia,  as  a  hus- 
band. Smothering  all  the  indignation  to  which  Arlington  had 
transformed  her  love,  and  determining  still  on  some  future  and 
signal  revenge,  she  saw,  as  the  violence  of  her  feeling  sub- 
sided, the  necessity  as  well  as  the  prudence  of  silencing  any 
thing  like  an  invidious  report.  The  old  Earl  was  therefore  ac- 
cepted, the  marriage  hastened,  and  the  remembrance,  or  at 
least  the  effects,  of  Cecilia's  early  crime,  concealed  beneath 
the  blazonry  of  a  coronet. 

Her  mind,  however,  had  been  essentially  perverted.    Her 


140  THE   OXONIANS. 

naturally  violent  passions,  once  let  loose,  burst  through  the 
floodgates  of  reason  and  restraint,  and  carried  her  impe- 
tuously along  in  their  wild  career.  She  soon  heartily  despised 
a  husband  who  submitted  to  all  her  dictates  with  the  obedience 
of  a  dotard  ;  she  considered  his  name  the  only  valuable  ap- 
pendage of  her  marriage,  and  used  his  authority  only  as  a 
cloak  to  cover  her  excesses,  and  to  preserve  her  caste  in  that 
society,  where  she  was  still  received  and  courted,  from  the 
convenient  opinion  of  "  a  blot  being  no  blot  till  it  is  hit." 
Her  beauty  made  her  attractive  to  the  men,  and  her  wit  ren- 
dered her  formidable  to  the  women  ;  so  that,  through  admi- 
ration on  the  one  side,  and  fear  on  the  other,  the  Countess  of 
Orville  had  led  a  splendid  career  ;  till  time,  lowering  the  in- 
fluence of  some  passions,  and  heightening  that  of  others,  had 
made  her  as  ambitious  of  power  as  she  had  formerly  been  ot 
pleasure. 

In  several  instances  Lady  Orville  had  so  far  overstepped 
the  prescribed  bounds,  that  none  other  but  herself  would 
probably  have  been  able  to  have  preserved  her  station  ;  but 
she  knew  the  world  well,  and  the  effect  of  these  instances  wa.s 
immediately  obliterated  by  some  splendid  fete,  more  brilliant 
than  that  which  had  gone  before.  Orville  House  was  a  de- 
lightful mansion  for  the  dissipated,  and  the  many  shut  their 
eyes,  or  closed  their  ears  to  the  rumours  of  frailties,  ol 
which  there  were  no  flagrant  proofs  to  substantiate  the  cor- 
rectness, rather  than  debar  themselves  from  the  convenience 
and  pleasure  of  visiting  Orville  House. 

There  was  a  certain  set,  however,  whom  Lady  Orville,  with 
all  her  arts,  could  never  tempt  within  her  doors  ;  and  into 
whose  circles  she  could  never,  with  all  her  talents  and  brilliant 
powers  of  entertainment,  gain  admittance  with  any  degree  ol 
intimacy.  These  were  not  those  who  deemed  themselves  ex- 
clusives,  merely  from  the  circumstance  of  elevated  rank  and 
fashion  ;  but  who  set  a  higher  value  on  an  untarnished  name, 
than  upon  either  of  these  adventitious  claims  to  distinction  ; 
and  who  would  not  permit  their  daughters  to  visit  or  to  be  seen 
in  any  mansion  where  scandal  had  been  busy  with  the  name 
of  its  mistress ;  and  thank  heaven  that  the  circle  of  those  of 
our  aristocracy,  who  act  upon  these  sentiments,  is  yet  suffi- 
ciently large  to  redeem  the  character  of  that  elevated  class 
from  the  conduct  of  those  icw  individuals  who  area  blotupon 
the  escutcheon  of  fashionable  society.  In  spite  of  the  sway 
and  influence  she  held  in  the  fashionable  world,  and  which 
.•nadcher  the  envy  of  two- thirds  of  her  numerous  acfjuaintance.. 


THE   OXONIANS.  141 

this  exclusion  from  the  most  select,  though  perhaps  not  the 
highest  in  rank,  imbittered  many  hours  of  Lady  Orville's  ex- 
istence :  for,  with  all  the  bravado  with  which,  in  her  letters  to 
her  divorcee  friend,  she  treated  the  opinions  and  ceremonies 
of  the  world,  and  oP  society  ;  and  in  spite  of  the  contempt 
with  which  she  chose  tq  treat  them  in  her  correspondence,  or 
in  the  immediate  circle  of  her  intimates,  where  a  mask  was 
no  longer  necessary  ;  there  was  no  person  more  sensitive  to, 
or  who  shrunk  with  more  horror  and  dismay  from  the  effects 
of  any  rumour  that  would  have  imparted  to  herself  the  slightest 
dereliction  from  the  established  rules  of  propriety.  Neither 
was  there  any  person  who  vi«ited  the  discovered  derelictions 
of  her  friends  with  more  severity  than  Lady  Orville. 

This  anxiety  on  the  part  of  the  vicious  to  avoid  the  stigma 
attached  to  their  pursuits,  is  one  of  the  greatest  triumphs  of 
virtue  over  vice  ;  and  the  care  with  which  the  semblance  of 
virtrue  is  presprved,  by  those  whose  actions  and  habits  are 
devoid  of  its  reality,  proves  their  consciousness  of  the  value 
of  that  which  thev  are  deserting,  and  the  worthlessness  of 
the  pursuits  in  which  they  are  engaged. 

It  has  been  often  observed  that  people  take  much  more  pains 
to  become  thieves,  than  would  be  necessary  to  make  them  ho- 
nest men  ;  that  more  time  has  been  spent  in  learning  to  effect 
a  burglarious  entry  to  a  house,  or  to  pick  a  pocket  scientifically, 
than  would  have  been  necess;»ry  to  have  acquired  some  repu- 
table trade,  that  would  have  procured  for  the  possessor  the 
power  of  gaining  a  respectable  livelihood  to  the  end  of  their 
days.  It  is  the  same  with  reyarl  tf»  the  virtues  and  vices  of 
society.  Few  peo[;le  can  imagine  the  labour  of  that  life  which 
is  nothing  but  one  continued  lie.  The  exertion  to  be  virtuous 
must  be  nothing  in  the  comparison  with  that  which  is  neces- 
sary, first,  in  the  career  of  vice,  and  secondly,  in  its  conceal- 
ment. 

We  are  again  moralizing,  though  our  second  volume  is  not 
begun  ;  and  when  we  ought  to  be  proceeding  with  our  tale. 

Lady  Orville  has  already  mentioned  her  intention  of  inviting 
to  Orville  House,  on  bis  arrival  from  India,  her  cousin.  Admiral 
Frankley,  who  was  immensely  rich,  and  whose  wealth  the 
Countess  had  determined  should  be  distributed  in  her  family. 
To  ensure  this,  it  was  necessarv  to  keep  from  him  a  niece,  the 
daughter  of  a  beloved  sister  whom  he  had  treated  harshly  on 
account  of  her  marriage,  and  to  whom,  from  sheer  repentHnce, 
he  was  very  likely  to  leave  the  whole  of  his  fortune. 

A  long  and  arduous  professional  life  at  sea  had  only  per- 


142  THE   OXOMAKS. 

mitt^d  Admiral  Frankley  to  see  his  cousin,  the  Countess,  oc- 
casionally when  on  shore,  and  during  these  visits  he  had  been 
charmed  by  the  open,  hearty  manner  in  which  he  had  been 
greeted,  and  by  the  welcome  with  which  he  had  been  received. 
Now,  therefore,  that  he  had  retired  from  active  service,  he  gladly 
embraced  the  proposition  of  remaining  at  Orville  House  until 
he  had  completed  an  establishment  of  his  own. 

The  previous  visits,  however,  of  the  gallant  admiral  had 
never  been  made  during  the  height  of  the  London  season ;  and 
arriving  before  Lady  Orville  expected,  or  was  jjrepared  for  him, 
he  had  no  idea  of  the  life  into  which  he  was  so  suddenly  in- 
troduced, and  by  which  his  head  was  literally  bewildered. 

'I'he  perpt.tual  parties,  the  incessant  occupation  of  the 
knocker,  and  the  continued  hurry  of  party  after  party,  made 
him  think  every  boily  mad,  and  he  began  to  fear  they  would 
drive  hun  so  likewise.  As  to  the  routs  ;  he  woidd  rather  have 
fought  an  enemy's  seventy-four,  or  sailed  through  the  Darda- 
nelles, under  the  lire  of  the  batteries,  than  have  encountered 
the  noise  and  confusion  which  attended  them  ;  and  it  was  with 
some  difficulty  that  by  closing  his  doors  he  excluded  the  noise 
attendant  upon  them. 

Warm  in  his  temper,  as  the  climate  in  which  he  had  passed 
so  great  a  portion  of  his  life,  he  was  as  umble  to  control  the 

passion  into  which  lie  was  thrown  by  what  he  called  the  d d 

follies  of  the  people  around  him,  as  he  was  to  get  rid  of  his 
sea  habits,  and  assimilate  his  pursuits  to  those  of  Lady  Orville 
and  her  family.  But  if  there  was  the  violence,  there  was  also 
the  generosity  of  the  sailor.  If  there  was  the  roughness  of 
the  element  on  which  he  had  passed  his  life,  there  was  an  ex- 
cellence of  heart  that  compensated  for  all  his  foibles.  Brave 
as  a  lion,  he  was  gentle  as  a  lamb  to  the  leadings  of  affection  ; 
and  the  only  thing  which  he  swore  be  never  could  nor  would 
forgive  was  that  want  of  sincerity,  which  he  technically  called 
fighting  under  false  colours. 

One  may  easily  imagine  such  a  character  very  much  mis- 
placed in  an  establishment  where  the  whole  system  was  one 
universal  deception,  where  all  was  one  scene  of  social  fraud, 
from  the  blandishments  of  the  mistress  down  to  the  civility  of 
the  servants.  But  that  whi«h  annoyed  him  more  than  any 
thing  was  his  being  denied  to  his  friends  by  tl.e  porter. 

Some  short  time  after  his  arrival  he  burst  into  the  boudoir 
of  the  Countess,  quite  in  a  phrensy  of  passion,  and  indulged 
himself  in  a  pretty  round  oath  or  two  against  the  porter  of  tho 
establishment. 


THE   OXONIANS.  143 

"  Come,  my  dear  Admiral,"  exclaimed  the  Countess,  who 
was  determined  to  humanize  him,  as  she  called  it,  if  possible  ; 
you  know  you  have  promised  me  to  give  up  this  odious  sea 
habit  of  swearing." 

"  D it,  my  lady  coUsin,  a'n't  I  breaking  myself  of  it  as 

fast  as  I  can,"  retorted  the  Admiral ;  "  and  if  your  ladyship, 
and  your  people,  would  break  yourselves  of  your  odious  land 
habit  of  lying,  I  should  not  have  so  much  occasion  for  my  sea 
habit  of  swearing." 

"  Lying,  my  dear  Admiral  ?" 

*'  Lying,  yes  lying,  my  lady  cousin.  Have  not  I  just  heard 
that  my  old  messmate,  Jack  Martin,  hoisted  the  lion's  head 
signal  at  your  door  for  me  yesterday,  and  that  your  jackanapes 

of  a  porter  told   him  '  not  at  home.'     D ,  well  I  wont 

swear,  but  I  really  believe  that  fellow  is  wound  up  by  your 
ladyship  in  the  morning,  and  lies  by  clock-work  all  the  rest  of 
the  day." 

"Nay,  my  dear  Admiral,  that  is  no  lie,"  replied  her  lady- 
ship. 

"  No  lie — but  it  isn't  the  truth  tho',  and ,  no  I  wont 

swear  ;  but  curse  me  if  I  know  any  thing  so  like  a  lie 
as  that  which  is  just  the  contrary  to  the  truth,"  retorted  the 
Admiral. 

*'  But,  my  dear  Admiral,  this  is  one  of  the  white  lies  which 
is  rendered  necessary  by  the  present  state  of  society,"  said 
Lady  Orville. 

"  Then  society  must  be  in  a well,  well,  in  a  very  bad 

state,  to  require  such  a  system,"  reiterated  the  Admiral. 

"  But,  after  all,  what  does  it  signify,  my  dear  Admiral, 
Avhether  you  saw  the  poor  Lieutenant  or  not  ?"  asked  Lady 
Orville. 

"  D it,  madam,  I  beg  your  pardon  for  swearing,  but  that 

Admiral  ought  to  be "  here  Lady  Orville  made  a  sign, 

'*  well,  well,  I  wont  swear,  but  that  Admiral  ought  to  be , 

you  know  what  I  mean,  who  could  bear  to  shut  the  port-hole 
of  his  house  in  the  face  of  that  messmate  on  shore,  who  had 
boldly  stood  the  brunt  of  an  enemy's  fire  at  his  port-holes  at 
sea." 

"  Well,  well,  Admiral,  only  favour  me  with  a  list  of  the  per- 
sons to  whom  you  wish  to  be  at  home." 

"  At  home  !"  exclaimed  the  Admiral,  interrupting  her,  "  I 
am  at  home  to  the  whole  world.  As  I  have  faced  my  enemies 
abroad,  I  can  face  my  friends  at  home.  I  never  make  promises 
1  don't  mean  to  fulfil,  nor  contract  debts  I  don't  mean  to  pay. 


144  THE   OXONIANS. 

Nor  is  there  a  face  I'm  ashamed  to  see  in  the  world,  excepting 
the  unblushing  one  of  a  modern  fine  lady,  or  the  effeminate 
one  of  what  you  call  an  exquisite." 

"  But  then  you  know,"  said  Lady  Orville,  in  her  sweetesl 
voice,  "  to  persons  of  our  rank,  there  are  so  many  application? 
for  charity,  relief,  and  one  nonsense  or  another." 

"  Then  the  least  we  can  do,"  again  interrupted  the  Admiral. 
"  is  to  see  the  applicants  ourselves,  that  if  we  can't  relieve 
their  wants,  the  kindness  of  our  refusal  may  soften  their  disap- 
pointment, and  not  leave  them  to  suppose  our  hearts  as  hard  as 
our  door,  from  the  surliness  of  the  porter  who  shuts  it  in  their 
face." 

"  But,  my  dear  Admiral,  there  are  some  troublesome  visiters, 
who,  without  such  a  regulation  as  this,  would  be  always  intru- 
ding themselves  into  our  drawing-rooms." 

"  I  know  there  are,"  rejoined  the  Admiral ;  *'  there  arc 
your  young  puppies  with  their  waspish  waists  and  empty  pates, 
who  set  themselves  up  for  men,  while  the  razor  makes  voyage? 
of  discovery  on  their  chin,  without  being  able  to  find  a  hair. 
These  I  would  bow  out  of  the  door,  and  send  back  to  their 
boarding-schools.  Then  there  are  your  mustached  and  whis- 
kered foreigners,  who,  with  their  tweedle  dum  and  tweedle  dee, 
give  themselves  the  airs  of  princes,  set  young  women  mad, 
and  ruin  our  native  fiddlers.  These  I  would  kick  out  of  the 
window." 

"  Well,  but  my  dear  Admiral — " 

*'  And  well,  but  my  dear  lady  cousin  ;  who  knows,  I  say,  but 
that  my  poor  lost  niece  may  find  out  her  hard-hearted  uncle, 
and  one  day  knock  at  the  door,  and  be  turned  adrift  upon  tiie 
wide  and  pitiless  ocean  of  life,  without  a  pilot  or  a  rudder, 
through  one  of  these  cursed  white  lies  of  *  not  at  home.'  " 

"  Ah,  Admiral,"  said  Lady  Orville,  with  a  sigh,  "  I  am  afraid 
your  hopes  of  discovering  your  niece  are  futile.  It  is  now  two 
years  since  her  father  failed." 

"  Ha — that  rascal  to  marry  my  poor  sister  under  false  colours, 
and  against  my  father's  consent,  and  then  to  hide  her  and  her 
child  from  me  in  their  poverty." 

"  Ay,  ay,  I  always  predicted  how  it  would  end;  merchants' 
wives,  indeed,  setting  up  to  vie  with  their  betters,"  exclaimed 
Lady  Orville. 

"  Betters,  Lady  Orville !  the  wife  of  a  British  merchant  has 
no  betters  ;  she  sits  like  the  figure  oi  Britannia  in  the  corner 
of  a  seactiart,  witti  tne  horn  of  plenty  in  her  hand,  and  the 
four  quarters  of  the  globe  pouring  out  their  riches  ai  her  feeJ. 


THE    OXONIANS.  145 

Nor  is  there  any  one  more  entitled  to  the  enjoyment  of  luxu- 
ries himself,  than  the  merchant,  who  risks  his  fortune  to  pro- 
cure them  for  others." 

"  Excepting  the  sailor,  who  fights  for  their  preservation,  my 
dear  Admiral,"  interrupted  Lady  Orville,  in  her  most  insinuat- 
ing tones  of  flattery  ;  "  I  think  you  will  allow  that." 

"  Eh,  what  ?  Egad,  you  are  right,"  chuckled  the  Admiral. 
"  Yes,  certainly,  the  sailor — Egad,  my  lady  cousin,  you  are  a 
very  sensible  woman,  when  you  suffer  your  heart  to  speak  in- 
stead of  your  education — yes,  yes,  those  who  fight  for  them, 

indeed  ;  d it,  that's  a  good  speech,  cousin  Orville — and  one 

may  swear  at  what  one  hears  so  seldom." 

Lady  Orville  smiled  at  the  effect  of  a  little  flattery,  even 
upon  the  rude  nature  of  the  rough  and  honest  seaman  :  and 
the  idea  passed  through  her  mind,  that  human  nature  was  the 
same  in  every  class  of  society  ;  and  that  flattery,  properly  ad- 
ministered, was  a  dose  suited  to  every  palate.  It  is  the  dif- 
ference of  the  seasoning,  thought  she,  and  its  influence  is  the 
same  over  all  mankind. 

"  But,  my  lady,  this  niece  of  mine  ;  have  you  yet  learned 
any  intelligence  of  her  ?"  anxiously  asked  the  Admiral. 

Lady  Orville  thought  tliis  a  good  opportunity  to  strike  a  blow, 
which  she  had  long  meditated,  at  the  claims  of  this  niece, 
whom  she  considered  the  only  obstacle  to  her  certainty  of  the 
Admiral's  fortune. 

"  Why,  Admiral,"  said  she,  musing,  and  speaking  with  ap- 
parent unwillingness,  "to be  candid  with  you but  now  it 

will  give  you  pain." 

"  Speak  out,  my  lady,  speak  out,  never  mince  the  matter; 
if  you  have  got  any  thing  to  say,  say  it." 

"  But  really,  my  dear  Admiral,  it  grieves  me  to  utter  any 
thing  that  may  give  you  pain  ;"  and  Lady  Orville  again  hesi- 
tated. 

"  Fire  away,  my  lady — speak — never  mind  me." 

"  Why  then.  Admiral,"  continued  the  Countess,  "  you  know 
in  our  inquiries  about  your  sisters's  child,  we  traced  her  and 
her  father  to  Devonshire." 

"  Well,  I  know  it,"  said  the  Admiral,  anxiously. 

"  On  his  death  (this  is  the  painful  part  of  the  intelligence) 
we  could  hear  nothing  farther  of  your  niece,  than  that  she  had 
suddenly  quitted  the  place,  in  company  with  a  young  gentle- 
man, nearly  a  stranger,  but  who  had  been  very  assiduous  in 
his  attention  to  her  for  some  few  weeks  previous  to  the  old 
gentleman's  death  ;  and  they  do  say,  but  the  world  is  always 

Vol.  L— 13 


146  THE    OXONIANS. 

very  scandalous,  that  her  conduct  witli  regard  to  this  youn^ 
gentleman  liastcned  that  melancholy  event. 

"  It's  a  lie.     It's  a ,  but  I  won't  swear — but  I'm  sure 

it's  a  lie.     What,  the  daughter  of  my  sister  Fanny.     ,  I 

won't  believe  it." 

"  I  would  not  give  credence  to  it  at  first.  Indeed,  I  am 
very  unwilling  to  believe  it  now ;  but  there  was.  I  am  afraid, 
intelligence  too  positive  to  be  doubted,"  continued  Lady  Orville ; 
"  and  it  has  been  this  that  has  made  us  all  so  backward  in  talk- 
ing on  the  subject." 

"I'm  thunderstruck!"  exclaimed  the  Admiral,  who,  inde- 
pendently of  the  impossibility  of  his  suspecting  Lady  Orville 
of  any  other  falsehood  than  one  of  her  harmless  white  lies, 
was  always  too  ready  to  give  credence  to  every  thing  he  heard  ; 
*'  I'm  thunderstruck  !  a  daughter  of  my  sister  Fanny  !  But  who 
is  the  villain  ?  I'll  hunt  him  through  the  world !  I'll  have  him 
hanged  at  the  yard-arm  ;  I'll  blow  him  to  atoms  at  the  muzzle 
of  a  four-and-twenty  pounder.  I'll — oh,  my  poor  sister  !  I  am 
glad  she  did  not  live  to  see  it.  But,  niy  lady,  are  you  sure : 
are  you  certain  ?" 

"  We  will  send  for  those  from  whom  we  have  gained  out 
information,"  my  dear  Admiral,  "  and  you  shall  judge  for  your- 
self ;  perhaps  you  may  detect  something  that  may  throw  a  doubt 
upon  our  surmises." 

"I'm  sure  I  shall.  Send  directly,"  exclaimed  the  agitated 
Admiral ;  "  send  for  them  directly,  my  Lady  ;  and  I'll  cut 
their  tongues  out,  if  I  find  they  have  lied," 

"Nay,  nay,  my  dear  Admiral,  calm  yourself;  and  I  will,  in 
the  mean  time,  send  after  the  difierent  people  from  whom  this 
information  has  been  obtained." 

At  this  moment  Langley  was  announced,  as  being  in  the 
drawing-room.  He  having  promised  to  convoy  the  Admiral. 
as  he  called  it,  through  the  new  streets  of  the  metropolis. 

"  Hush,  my  Lady  ;  not  a  word  before  him.  Though  1  like 
this  fellow  too,  for  he  rescued  me  from  those  racketty  young 
fellows  ;  but  he  always  appears  to  me  scudding  under  false  co- 
lours ;  hanging  out  smiles,  and  having  nothing  but  sighs  and 

tears  abroad.     Well,  well,  you've  shocked  me.     I'll  be , 

well,  I  won't  swear — no,  I  v/on't — I'll  forget  the  unworthy  slut. 
No,  I  can't.  When  she'd  such  an  uncle  too  !  But  she  did  not 
know  that ;  however,  never  mind.  My  Lady,  your  hand  ;" 
and  he  handed  Lady  Orville  from  her  boudoir  to  the  drawing- 
room,  with  all  the  punctilio  of  the  old  school. 

Lady  Orville  congratulated  herself  on  the  success  of  this 


THE    0X0]SIAK3.  147 

hint,  upon  which  she  built  her  hopes  of  driving  his  niece 
entirely  from  his  mind.  The  great  difficulty  was,  what  to  do 
with  the  Admiral,  so  as  to  blind  him  to  all  her  other  intrigues 
and  manoeuvrings ;  and  being  afraid  to  leave  him  much  to  his  own 
observation,  all  she  could  do  was  to  find  employment  and 
amusement  for  him.  '' 

To  expect  more  than  common  attention  to  the  old  gentle- 
man, from  a  son  and  daughter,  who,  with  no  very  great  degree 
of  filial  respect  for  their  mother,  had  all  their  own  schemes  of 
pleasure  to  attend  to,  she  knew  was  useless  ;  she  had  thercibre 
pressed  two  or  three  of  the  young  danglers  about  Orville  House 
into  the  service,  and  who  were  only  too  happy  to  oblige  the 
gay  Countess,  to  act  as  cicisboes  to  the  old  Admiral,  who  could 
do  very  well  as  long  as  he  was  not  left  alone.  Among  these 
Langley  was  the  foremost,  and  generally  the  most  constant. 
He  had  first  met  the  old  Admiral  at  the  opera,  where  he  had 
inadvertently  wandered  into  the  coulisses ;  but,  astounded  and 
bewildered  by  the  exhibition  he  there  witnessed,  he  thought 
Bedlam  had  been  let  loose,  and  not  being  able  to  find  his  way 
back  to  the  front  of  the  house,  had  been  misdirected  by  some 
roguish  sparks,  into  a  passage  which  led  him  under  the  stage, 
where  Langley,  attracted  by  his  lusty  "  yeo-ho's,"  and  "  avasts," 
found  him  in  the  dark,  grappling,  as  he  called  it,  with  a  trap- 
door, not  knowing  which  way  to  turn  himself;  and  half-frightened 
out  of  his  senses  at  the  hubbub  of  the  machinery,  which  he 
said,  "  made  such  an  infernal  noise  down  in  that  d — d  cockpit." 

They  afterward  met  at}  Orville  House,  and  it  being  among 
Langley's  numerous  plans,  to  make  some  use  of  the  interest 
of  that  family,  which  had  been  most  profusely  promised  by  the 
young  Earl,  he  did  every  thing  to  keep  in  favour  with  the 
Countess.  Finding,  therefore,  that  paying  court  to  the  old 
Admiral  was  a  very  acceptable,  as  well  as  not  an  unpleasant 
mode  of  accomplishing  his  end,  an  intimacy  was  established 
between  them,  which  proved  agreeable  to  both. 

The  Adiniral  thought  him  a  good  fellow,  and  hearing  from 
the  Countess  of  his  misfortunes,  he  wished  that  he  had  been 
brought  up  to  the  navy,  that  he  might  have  got  him  promoted, 
and  have  taken  him  in  the  service. 

This  Langley  set  down  to  the  score  of  his  usual  ill-luck  ; 
here'he'had  made  a  friend,  and  a  powerful  one, but  unfortunately 
his  power  and  influence  lay  in  a  direction  where  it  could  be  of 
no  utility  to  him.  He  could  be  of  no  use  at  the  Admiralty  ; 
he  was  too  old  to  commence  the  service  as  a  mid.;  he  had 
done  nothing  to  entitle  him  to  the  consideration  of  the  Govern- 


148  THE    OXONIANS. 

mcnt.  In  short,  he  had  nothing  to  recommend  him  but  his 
misfortunes  and  his  classical  education  ;  the  first  of  which  the 
Admiral  pronounced  the  worst  introduction  in  the  world,  and 
the  latter  to  be  "  d — d  nonsense." 

Admiral  Frankley  had  been  so  long  used  to  command,  and 
to  be  implicitly  obeyed  at  sea,  that  he  could  not  help  exerting 
the  same  authority  on  shore. 

Like  many  others,  he  had  his  hobby-horse  or  mania.  It  was, 
however,  an  amiable  one,  since  it  consisted  in  an  attempt  at  mak- 
ing people  happy.  It  is  true  that,  like  many  others,  he  wished  to 
accomplish  his  end  in  his  own  way  rather  than  in  theirs.  Al- 
though unmarried,  and  generally  railing  against  the  holy  estate 
of  matrimony,  no  old  maid  had  a  greater  inclination  to  match- 
making than  himself ;  he  delighted  in  discovering  an  attachment, 
and  prided  himself  in  accelerating  an  eclaircissement.  In  this 
pursuit,  however,  he  was  far  from  being  very  successful ;  for, 
once  imbibing  a  notion  that  two  people  were  attached  to  each 
other,  it  was  with  great  difficulty  that  he  could  believe  himself 
mistaken  ;  and  thus  he  often  produced  extraordinary  scenes, 
and  placed  persons  in  very  awkward  situations  by  attempting 
the  denouement  of  an  attachment  which  had  existed  only  in 
liis  ovs^n  imagination.  On  these  occasions  the  poor  admiral 
was  a  complete  marplot,  and  the  moment  he  took  it  into  his 
head  that  any  one  in  whom  he  was  interested  had  taken  a 
•'  cargo  of  love  aboard,"  he  watched  both  parties  with  a  jea- 
lousy equal  to  that  of  the  lovers  themselves  ;  interfered  in 
every  stage  of  the  business  ;  took  upon  himself  to  do  quite  as 
much  as  though  he  w'ere  the  father  or  guardian  of  one  or 
both  of  them  ;  and  above  all,  never  permitted  what  he  called 
"  false  colours"  to  be  hung  out,  by  either  one  or  the  other, 
without  doing  his  utmost  to  expose  their  hypocrisy. 

It  may  easily  be  supposed  that  this  was  rather  an  awkward 
character  to  be  placed  in  the  midst  of  such  a  manoeuvring 
family  as  that  of  the  Orvilles  ;  and,  more  particularly,  from  the 
Hartley  family,  as  well  as  the  father  of  Forrester  having  been 
old  and  valued  friends  of  the  admiral,  he  thought  himself 
authorized  to  interfere  in  all  their  plans. 

He  had  heard  of  Forrester's  attachment,  and  had  been  led 
to  understand  that  it  was  returned  by  Emily  :  thus  Lady 
Orville  had  the  greatest  difliculty  in  preventing  his  promoting 
their  union  so  contrary  to  her  wishes  and  projects.  At  the 
same  time  she  sought  to  take  advantage  of  this  disposition,  by 
attempting  to  persuade  him  that  Emily  was  attached  to  her 
son  ;  being  fully  aware  that,  if  he  once  imbibed  this  idea,  ho 


THE  oxoMANS.  149 

woulJ  do  every  thing  to  bring  about  the  match,  and  perhaps 
influence  Orville  to  determine  on  the  marriage  by  some  de- 
cisive promise  Avith  regard  to  the  disposition  of  his  own  pro- 
perty ;  for  she  saw  that  his  attachment  to  the  Hartleys  was 
such,  that  they  would  certainly  share  his  fortune  with  her  own 
children,  should  the  admiral  die  without  discovering  his  niece. 
Thus  the  double  marriage  of  the  children  became  doubly  de- 
sirable. 

Here  was  a  web  which  it  took  all  Lady  Orville's  abilities  to 
weave  successfully  ;  and  a  series  of  plans,  which  were  every 
moment  in  danger  of  derangement  by  the  open-hearted  honesty 
of  the  straight-forward  admiral.  He,  however,  seeing  various 
couples  proceeding  in  the  path  to  matrimony,  was  delighted 
at  promoting  what  he  conceived  to  be  the  wishes  of  all  par- 
ties, and  soon  became  as  busy  as  Lady  Orville  herself  in  the 
politics  of  the  various  mai-iiages  which  he  imagined  to  be  on 
the  tapis. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

DREAMS   A^D    REALITIES. 

In  my  mind's  eye,  Horatio. — Shakspeare. 

TuERE  is  hardly  a  more  dangerous  character  in  the  world 
to  its  possessor,  or  a  more  useless  one  to  others,  than  the  man 
who'  lives  on  his  own  imagination — the  day  dreamer,  who 
exists  in  an  imaginary  state  of  activity,  while  lazily  lolling  in 
his  easy  chair,  or  idly  sauntering  in  a  walk,  and  who  has  no 
other  end  in  view  than  the  indulgence  of  that  habit  of  lancying 
scenes  and  circumstances  which  have  no  other  foundation  than 
the  chimera  of  his  own  brain. 

It  is  thus,  that  some  spend  years  in  picturing  to  the  mind's 
eye  the  circumstances  which  produce  wealth — imagine  them- 
selves its  possessor  ;  and  anticipate  the  uses  or  abuses  they  will 
make  of  it.  Fancy  paints  them  in  their  splendid  equipage  ; 
pictures  them  surrounded  by  attendants,  and  dining  from  ser- 
vices of  plate  :  till  old  age  suprises  them  still  in  tlieir  original 
poverty,  when  it  is  too  late  to  realize  the  dreams  of  a  diseased 
imagination. 

Others,  whose  minds,  or  rather  whose  fancies  dwell  on  glory 
13* 


)50  THE   0X0MAN3. 

— imagine  battles,  and  think  of  guns  and  trumpets,  and  gun- 
powder and  slaughter,  without  ever  having  heard  a  shot  fired, 
or  a  sword  drawn,  excepting  in  Hyde  Park,  or  on  Hounslow 
Heath — ride  tlirough  fields  of  slain  as  triumphant  conquerors 
imagine  the  cries  of  victory,  and  the  records  of  their  own 
proud  deeds,  and  finish  the  airy  romance  w  hich  their  mind  has 
conjured  up,  by  picturing  themselves  the  hero  of  the  Court, 
their  button-holes  graced  by  orders,  and  their  brows  decorated 
"With  a  coronet ;  received  with  a  gracious  smile  by  their  mo- 
narch ;  greeted  with  the  acclamations  of  the  multitude  ;  wel- 
comed by  the  waving  handkerchiefs  and  bright  eyes  of  the  fair 
sex,  and  viewed  with  envy  by  the  other. 

Some,  whose  minds  and  dispositions  have  a  bias  to  the  ten- 
derer passions,  and  the  softer  deliglits  of  existence,  give  them- 
selves up  to  dreams  of  love  ;  whisper  iho  soft  tale  of  their 
affections  in  imagination,  picture  its  favourable  reception,  think 
on  all  the  ceremonies  of  their  marriage,  and  wake  from  their 
dream  only,  when  they  read  in  the  Morning  Post,  that  their  mis- 
tress has  been  married  at  St.  George's  church  to  another. 

Such  a  character  was  Langley.  In  the  midst  of  his  pros- 
perity these  day  dreams  had  no  influence  on  his  circumstances, 
and  perhaps  added  to  his  happiness.  He  could  then  aflbrd  to 
dream,  and  might,  perhaps,  have  had  the  power  frequently  to 
realize  the  dreams  in  which  he  could  spend  so  many  hours  of 
bis  existence.  But  in  his  poverty  it  was  different.  Hours  were 
spent  in  unprofitable  scheming,  which  ought  to  have  been  devoted 
to  active  exertion.  Petitions  and  solicitations  were  dreamed  of, 
and  their  success  anticipated,  but  never  acted  upon.  No  project 
was  planned,  either  by  himself  or  his  wife,  that  Langley  did 
not  resolve  to  adopt ;  but  these  resolutions  were  never  put 
into  effect.  From  the  moment  any  project  was  conceived,  his 
active  and  sanguine  mind  began  to  imagine  the  result ;  and  he 
would  walk  for  hours  ruminating  upon  the  events  that  might 
accrue,  imagining  the  whole  history  of  his  future  life  to  which  the 
pursuit  of  this  plan  was  to  give  a  new  colouring  ;  and  would 
return  home  without  having  taken  one  step  towards  its  accom- 
plishment. His  wife  saw  this  failing  Avith  regret;  lamented 
it  with  bitterness,  and  became  almost  hopeless  of  any  change 
in  a  disposition  which,  from  habit,  was  become  almost  a 
disease. 

As  poverty,  however,  pressed  more  closely ;  as  the  bitterness 
of  his  fate  daily  increased  ;  as  every  hope  which,  almost  un- 
acknowledged by  himself,  he  had  cherished,  that  the  justice  of 
the  heir  at  lav/  would  at  last  make  some  provision,  out  of  the 


THE   OXONIANS.  151 

immense  wealth  which  he  had  derived  so  unexpectedly,  for  one 
whom  his  prosperity  had  rendered  pennyless,  faded  away  ;  he 
at  length  became  roused  by  the  absolute  necessity  of  effecting 
something. 

Lord  Orville  had  been  profuse  in  his  promises  ;  Langley  felt 
himself  to  be  well  received  by  the  family ;  he  was  always  a 
welcome  guest  at  the  table  ;  was  never  •'  de  trop"  in  Lady 
Orville's  carriage  or  Opera  box  ;  and  was  frequently  the  young 
Peer's  companion  in  his  St.  James's  morning  stroll,  or  in  his 
cabriolet  promenade  in  the  Park.  These  noble  people  like- 
wise frequently  condescended  to  make  use  of  him  in  various 
ways.  His  talents  were  such  as  rendered  him  an  agreeable 
companion  ;  there  was  no  way  in  which  his  presence  could 
cross  any  of  their  various  schemes ;  and  Langley  was  pro- 
nounced by  all  to  be  a  particular  favourite  at  Orville  House. 

All  these  circumstances  had  been  revolved  in  his  own  mind, 
and  elaborately  detailed  to  his  wife  by  Langley,  when  he  de- 
termined on  making  the  application  alluded  to  in  a  foregoing 
chapter :  and  the  knowledge  of  the  actual  power  which  the 
Orvilles  possessed  by  their  influence  in  various  quarters,  really 
afforded  them  very  rational  grounds  for  his  hope  of  success. 

Still,  however,  day  after  day  passed  without  the  experiment 
having  been  made.  Langley  would  remain  for  hours  picturing 
to  himself  the  reception  which  would  be  given  to  his  petition, 
and  imagining  a  long  train  of  results  which  promoted  him 
from  the  humble  secretai-yship,  he  hoped  at  first  to  attain,  to 
some  prominent  and  important  appointment.  Yet  this,  alas, 
was  only  in  his  imagination  ;  and  he  returned  home  daily  to 
his  wife  in  the  same  state  of  poverty,  without  having  advanced 
one  step,  or  made  one  exertion. 

At  length,  on  the  morning  after  the  last  party  described  at 
Orville  House,  Langley  really  determined  to  make  his  long- 
projected  application  to  Lord  Orville,  who  had,  during  the 
dinner  of  the  preceding  day,  been  more  than  usually  kind  and 
familiar,  and  more  than  commonly  profuse  in  his  oflers  of 
service. 

On  all  other  occasions,  Langley  had  approached  Orville 
House,  if  not  with  a  light  heart,  with  a  confident  step.  Cer- 
tain of  his  welcome,  with  no  other  motive  than  that  of  adding 
to  the  circle  within,  and  suiting  his  morning  arrangements  with 
theirs,  the  knocker  was  applied  with  as  much  ease  by  Lang- 
ley, as  by  the  most  independent  of  the  frequenters  of  the  gay 
mansipn.  This  morning,  however,  he  approached  with  a  slow 
and  hesitating  step,  v;hich  became  slower  as  he  approached 


152  THE    OX0>LVN3. 

the  house  ;  twice  he  entered  the  portico,  anJ  twice  letieatctl 
without  knocking  at  the  door.  At  length,  taking  a  turn  round 
the  square  (there  is  nothing  like  action  to  restring  the  relaxed 
nerves),  he  summoned  courage,  and  gave  his  usual  rap,  which 
was  alertly  attended  to  by  tlie  fat  porter,  who  appeared  an 
enviable  being  at  this  moment  to  Langley,  since  he  had  his 
place,  and  had  no  favours  to  ask. 

Lord  Orville  was  with  Forrester,  who,  having  called  to  pay 
his  respects  to  Miss  Hartley,  had  been  purposely  shown  into 
the  library,  where  Orville  had  detained  him  until  he  heard  the 
carriage  roll  away  that  was  to  carry  his  mother  and  Emily  upon 
a  long  round  of  morning  visits,  and  upon  a  pilgrimage  to  all 
the  lace  venders  in  St.  James's. 

Emily  had  naturally  expected  such  a  visit,  yet  had  internally 
felt  it  a  relief  that  it  had  not  been  paid  :  though  she  agreed 
with  Lady  Orville  in  an  observation,  that  it  was  certainly  very 
remiss  in  ."Mr.  Forrestet  to  pass  the  first  morning  of  his  arrival 
in  London  without  paying  his  respects,  and  bringing  news  of 
her  dear  Lady  Emily. 

Forrester,  during  his  detention  by  Lord  Orville,  was  upon 
thorns  ;  for  he  felt  that  the  result  of  his  morning's  interview 
with  Emily  might  either  confirm  his  fears,  or  remove  his  doubts 
for  ever  :  yet  Lord  Orville  was  so  diffuse  in  his  conversation  ; 
entered  upon  such  various  subjects  ;  and  discussed  so  many 
matters,  with  such  an  appearance  of  interest  to  himself,  that 
poor  Forrester  found  it  impossible  to  escape. 

At  length,  being  aware  that  the  carriage  was  gone,  Orville 
suddenly  finished  a  sentence  with,  "  But  I  beg  your  pardon  ; 
I  am  detaining  you  from  Miss  Hartley,  who  is  doubtless 
anxious  to  see  you,  and  to  hear  news  from  the  Grove."  Ho 
irang  the  bell,  and  desired  the  servant  to  show  Mr.  Forrester 
up  to  Jliss  Hartley. 

"  Miss  Hartley  has  been  gone  out  with  my  Lady  some  time, 
my  Lord,"  said  the  servant ;  to  the  evident  mortification  of 
Forrester,  and  to  the  apparent  surprise  of  Lord  Orville. 

To  Forrester,  su?[)ense  was  worse  liian  certainty  ;  and  it 
was  thus  continued  for  an  indefinite  period,  at  a  time  when 
every  moment  appeared  an  age. 

At  this  instant  Monsieur  Fripon  announced  Langley,  as  de- 
siring to  speak  with  Lord  Orville  alone. 

Forrester,  whose  heart  was  ever  alive  to  the  distress  of  his 
fellow-creatures  in  a  moment  banished  the  effects  of  his  own 
disappointment,  to  inquire  of  Orville  if  he  knew  any  thing 


THE    OXONIANS.  163 

of  Langley's  affairs  ;  and  if  he  had  yet  succeeded  in  doing 
any  thing  to  redeem  his  fortunes. 

"  Faith,  no  !"  replied  Lord  Orville,  coldly — "  He  is  a  very 
clever  fellow — a  genius — quite  the  fashion  with  a  certain  set — 
entertaining  beyond  any  thing  ;  like  Yorick,  '  a  fellow  of  infi- 
nite jest.'  He  is  good  enough  to  amuse  my  friends  :  it  was 
all  I  wanted  ;  I  inquired  no  farther — Ah  !  my  dear  Langley, 
how  do  you  do  ?  I  am  delighted  to  see  you  ;"  greeting  the  en- 
trance of  Langley  with  a  hearty  shake  of  the  hand. 

"•  Quite  well,  I  thank  your  lordship  ;"  answered  Langley, 
with  an  embarrassed  air ;  for  Langley  was  not  the  man  to 
prefer  a  petition  either  with  grace  or  confidence. 

"  Langley,"  said  Forrester,  also  shaking  him  heartily  by  the 
hand,  "  I  am  glad  to  renew  my  acquaintance  with  you  ;  and 
whenever  you  can  quit  the  gay  metropolis  for  a  few  weeks, 
remember  Forrester  Lodge  will  be  open  to  receive  you,  and 
you  will  delight  me  by  becoming  my  guest. — Lord  Orville,  I 
leave  you  to  your  business  with  Langley,  and  must  charge 
you  with  my  respects,  and  the  expression  of  my  disappoint- 
ment to  Miss  Hartley  ;"  and  so  saying  he  quitted  the  room. 

Langley  now  felt  his  embarrassment  redouble  :  instead  of 
his  usual  ease  of  manner,  he  could  neither  sit  nor  stand  stilL 
He  felt  a  blush  stealing  over  his  face,  and  his  confusion  of 
mind  increased,  until  he  was  in  some  measure  relieved  by  Lord 
Orville  saying — 

"  Why,  my  dear  Langley,  what  made  you  leave  us  so  early 
last  night  ?  we  had  never  found  you  more  entertaining — but,  I 
suppose,  some  amour  ;  some  love  in  the  case.  You  poets  are 
devils  among  the  women." 

"  Oh  no,  my  Lord  ;  no  amour,"  replied  Langley  ;  *'  no  love 
in  the  case ;"  and  his  mind  reverted  to  his  wife  and  the  second 
floor.  "  I  retired  gratified  beyond  measure  at  having  had  the 
honour  to  contribute  to  the  pleasure  of  your  Lordship's 
party." 

"  Oh,  I  never  saw  you  in  finer  feather  ;  you  were  the  zest 
of  the  evening.  I  don't  know  what  we  should  have  done 
without  you." 

"  Oh  !"  thought  Langley,  "  tis  done  ;  I  am  a  made  man, 
I  am  a  fool  not  to  strike  while  the  iron  is  hot." 

"  But  you  requested  to  see  me  alone  ?"  continued  Orville. 

"  True,  my  Lord,  I  did  take  that  liberty,"  replied  Langley, 
hesitating — 

"  Liberty  !  Langley.  Nay,  among  friends,  these  things  are 
no  liberties."     All  this  encouraged  Langley  to  throw  ofi"some 


154  THE    0X0>1AXS. 

portion  of  his  Jiffidcnce,  and  urged  by  his  necessities,  and  en- 
courajred  by  Orville's  kindness,  he  proceeded — 

"  The  fact  is — I  mean — Sir — that  is — I  have  presumed  that 
our  acquaintance  has  not  endured  so  long  without  my  pretend- 
ing to  some  portion  of  your  Lordship's  confidence  and  iViend- 
siiip — "  Here  he  came  to  a  full  stop  ;  but  was  again  encou- 
raged by  Lord  Orville's  replying  : 

"  Certainly.  I  know  none  of  my  acquaintance  I  esteem  so 
much  ;  none  so  well  entitled  to  my  esteem." 

"  My  Lord,  you  do  me  honour.  It  is  therefore  that  I  pre- 
sume to  remind  your  Lordship — of  Iha  kind  offers  of  service 
you  have  made  me  at  various  periods — and  of  a  promise — " 

"  A  promise  !"  exclaimed  Lord  Orville. 

"  Yes :  one  day,  after  dinner,  your  Lordship  did  me  the  honour 

to  promise  to  use  your  influence  with  his  grace  of ;  and 

1  now  presume  to  remind  you  of  my  necessities,  and  to  request 
its  performance."  The  petition  was  now  fairly  out ;  and 
Langley,  with  downcast  eye,  awaited  the  result ;  but  was  im- 
mediately reheved  by  the  kindness  of  Lord  Orville's,  reply. 

"  My  dear  Langley,"  said  he,  "this  frankness  delights  me. 
Believe  mc,  nothing  will  give  me  greater  pleasure  than  to  be 
of  service  to  one  I  esteem  so  much." 

"  Oh,  my  Lord,  I  knew  it ;  I  knew  I  was  not  wrong  in  cal- 
culating on  your  Lordship's  kindness,"  said  Langley. 

"Indeed  you  were  not,  Langley,"  said  Lord  Orville,  in  a 
tone  of  sympathy,  calculated  to  remove  Langley's  embarrass- 
ment. *'  Depend  upon  it,  I  will  take  the  first  opportunity  of 
seeing  my  noble  friend.  1  will  lay  your  whole  case  before  him. 
and,  backed  by  my  recommendation,  have  very  little  doubt  of 
success." 

"  My  Lord,  you  overpower  me  with  gratitude.  I  cannot 
express  the  fulness  of  those  thanks  with  which  my  heart  is 
overflowing  ;"  exclaimed  Langley,  nearly  overpowered  by  his 
feelings. 

'<  Never  mention  it,  my  dear  fellow,"  replied  Orville.  "  The 
only  use  of  power  is  to  serve  our  friends  ;  and  you  will  never 
want  one  while  I  am  here  ;  and  though  at  present  I  must  wish 
you  a  good  morning,  command  me  on  all  occasions,  I  be- 
seech you." 

Langley,  in  this  dismissal,  saw  only  the  delicacy  which  would 
not  prolong  the  embarrassment  of  his  situation,  or  put  liiin  to 
the  trouble  of  returning  his  thanks  ;  and  saying,  "  My  Lord, 
you  confound  me  by  your  goodness,"  pressed  Lord  Orville's 


THE   OXONIANS.  165' 

offered  hand.  "  I  take  my  leave  with  a  deep  sense  of  the  gra- 
titude I  owe  your  Lordship." 

"  Depend  upon  my  exertions.  I  trust  soon  to  give  you  a 
good  account  of  my  mission  :  and  to  congratulate  you  on  its 
success.     Adieu,  mon  ami.     Au  revoir." 

Langley  could  scarcely  refrain  from  tears  of  joy  and  grati- 
tude. His  eyes  were  suffused  and  his  utterance  choked  with 
the  fulness  of  his  heart,  as  he  hastily  quitted  the  room,  inter- 
nally blessing  his  patron  for  his  kindness  ;  and  all  anxiety  to 
impart  to  his  wife  the  good  tidings  of  his  success.  Lord  Or- 
ville  rang  the  bell,  which  was  immediately  answered  by  his 
valet ;  and  coolly  taking  a  pinch  of  snuff,  he  deliberately  said  : 

"  Fripon,  tell  the  porter  to  say  '  Not  at  home'  to  Mr.  Lang- 
ley  for  the  future."  '  , 


CHAPTER  XX. 

A  MEETING. 

'Twas  she  to  whom  in  former  days 
Had  been  inspi-ibed  his  earliest  lays  ; 
She  to  whom  his  earliest  vow 
Was  given — tho'  broken  now, — Anon. 

What  in  the  name  of  wonder  would  or  could  become  of  a 
woman  of  fashion  in  the  course  of  a  long  morning  (when  she 
happens  to  make  one  by  rising  before  two,  and  is  disinclined 
for  visiting),  if  it  were  not  for  shopping  ?  If  it  were  not  for 
the  delight  of  spending  their  fathers',  their  husbands',  or  their 
own  money,  on  the  thousand  little  et  ceteras  which  the  Lon- 
don shops  present  to  tempt  the  money  from  their  purses,  or 
their  names  into  the  legers  of  those  traders  in  women's  vani- 
ties with  which  the  metropolis  abounds,  and  who  are  so  obse- 
quious and  obliging  till  about  two  months  after  theyjiave  sent 
in  their  bills. 

The  moniing  toilet  finished  ;  the  maid  worried  out  of  her 
life  ;  the  chocolate  despatched  ;  the  scandalous  chronicles  of 
the  daily  papers  discussed  ;  the  initial  of  the  heroes  and  he- 
roines of  some  adventure  just  budding  into  notoriety  guessed 
at,  to  the  destruction  of  the  fair  fame  of  some  dear  friend ;  the 
party  of  the  evening  before  canvassed,  and  that  of  the  ensuing 


156  THE  OXONIANS. 

one  anticipated  ;  \vhat  could  a  woman  of  fashion  do  with  her 
time  for  the  rest  of  the  morning,  when  not  inclined  for  visits, 
but  for  the  dear  delights  of  shopping  ? 

Luckily  for  mortals  under  these  circumstances,  there  are 
such  places  as  Harding's  in  Pall-Mali,  Howel  and  James's  in 
Regent-::treet,  as  a  pis  dller^  the  bazaars  :  and  do  not  let  little 
people  fancy  tliat  the  bazaars  are  despised  by  the  great  ones  ; 
for  if  they  do  they  are  very  much  mistaken.  We  have  our- 
selves seen  one  or  two  of  the  exclusives  among  marchionesse- 
and  countesses  lounging  their  half  hour  away  upon  a  bazaar 
counter,  giving  the  little  vendeuses  behind  it  ten  times  more 
trouble  than  was  experienced  from  a  plebeian,  and  thinking 
them  fully  repaid  by  the  honour  of  speaking  to  a  peeress. 

Well,  byt'  to  shopping.  Shopping  we  know  to  be  the  de- 
light of  females  in  every  situation  in  life  ;  from  the  peeress  at 
the  head  of  society  to  the  laundress  at  the  tail  of  it ;  from  the 
lady  who  is  ushered  into  some  fashionable  Magazin  des  Modes 
and  with  bows  and  smirks  conducted  through  ranges  of  Mech- 
lin and  Brussels,  Indian  crapes  and  Cachemire  shawls,  and 
satins  and  silks  in  the  regions  of  St.  James's  ;  to  the  humble 
artisans  wife,  who,  in  spite  of  the  fatigue  of  a  hard  day's  work, 
on  a  Saturday  night  roves  through  the  linen  drapers'  reposi- 
tories in  High  Holborn  ;  examines  printed  cottons  warranted 
fast  colours,  and  cheapens  Gros  de  Naples  at  two  shillings  per 
yard  ;  in  order  to  buy  a  little  finery  for  a  Sunday  jaunt  to 
Hishbury  or  Richmond-hill.  The  love  of  shopping  seems  to 
be  an  innate  sentiment  of  the  female  bosom  ;  the  delight  of 
spending  money  ;  the  pleasure  of  purchasing  things  which 

Are  bought  because  they  may  be  wanted 
Wanted  because  they  may  be  bought ; 

is  a  characteristic  of  the  sex  all  over  the  world.  A'^ery  few  ol 
them  are  sensible  of  the  value  of  money  by  any  other  means 
than  those  of  spending  it ;  they  never  know  the  trouble  of 
getting  it.  They  look  to  their  quarterly  allowance  from  their 
husbands  as  though  it  grew  spontaneously  for  their  use  ;  and 
never  think  or  dream  of  the  deficiencies  of  tenants,  of  the  ces- 
sation of  remittances,  of  the  stoppage  of  bankers,  or  of  any  of 
those  variety  of  disappointments  which  continually  occur  be- 
tween the  expectation  and  the  purse. 

How  many  matrimonial  fracas  have  been  boxed  up  in  the 
neat  pasteboard  cases  which  are  hourly  transferred  from  these 


THE  OXONIANS.  557 

shops  to  the  toilets  of  the  fair  purchasers.  How  many  papas 
have  greeted,  with  lengthened  visage  and  rising  sigh,  the  pro- 
fusion of  feathers  and  furs  with  which  some  "exquisite"  young 
lady  has  loaded  her  footman,  with  the  intention  of  striking 
fop's  alley  with  astonishment  from  her  box  at  the  opera.  But 
what  are  the  triflmg  circumstances  of  a  husband's  ruin  or  a 
father's  heartache,  compared  with  the  hope  of  a  new  conquest, 
or  the  gratification  of  eclipsing  a  rival  ? 

On  the  morning  in  question,  Lady  Orville,  not  being  at  all 
inclined  for  visits,  proposed  a  shopping  morning's  lounge,  and 
took  Emily  with  her. 

The  moment  that  Orville  bad  got  rid  of  Forrester  and  dis- 
missed Langley,  he  mounted  his  horse  ;  and,  calling  for  Hart- 
ley, away  they  galloped,  and  catching  sight  of  the  carriage  as 
it  dashed  down  Regent-street  (for  at  that  moment  there  was 
situated  the  grand  emporium  of  female  finery),  they  joined  it 
in  time  to  hand  Lady  Orville  and  Emily  into  the  shop  ;  or,  as 
it  is  now  more  politely  called,  a  "  depot."  There  were  dis- 
played the  productions  of  France  and  India,  to  tempt  theEng- 
Jish  guineas  from  English  pockets.  Lady  Orville  was  too  well 
known  not  to  meet  with  immediate  attention  ;  and  lounging 
through  the  rooms  with  Emily  on  her  arm,  they  were  obsequi- 
ously followed  by  the  stiff-cravatted  shopman, who  beladyshipped 
them  both  to  a  great  extent  ;  and  calling  for  one  tempting 
article  after  another,  displayed  all  the  new  importations  which 
had  been  the  result  of  Mr.  H.'s  last  visit  to  Paris  :  while  Lord 
Orville  poured  his  insidious  compliments  into  Emily's  ear,  and 
Hartley  rattled  away  with  the  Countess, 

To  enumerate  the  variety  of  merchandise  which  here  met 
the  apathetic  glances  of  Lady  Orville,  whose  senses  were  far 
too  use  to  be  gratified  or  surprised  by  any  thing  of  the  kind, 
and  the  astonished  gaze  of  the  less  experienced  Emily,  would 
require  volumes.  Cachemires  were  unfolded,  jewel  cases 
opened,  porcelain  vases,  and  bronzes,  and  marbles  displayed  to 
the  admiring  eyes  of  the  beholders,  and  a  variety  of  things  were 
ordered.  At  length  Lady  Orville  said,  "  By-the-by,  my  dear 
Emily,  we  shall  want  some  costume  for  the  Marchioness  of 
Tourville's  fancy  ball ;"  and  immediately  led  the  way  to  the 
dress-room,  telling  the  attendant  that  the  gentlemen  must  be 
admitted.  Lady  Orville's  wishes  were  paramount  with  the 
civil  shopkeepers. 

Doors,  which  had  hitherto  been  concealed  by  the  shelves 
which  contained  a  variety  of  articles  in  front  of  them,  were  im- 
mediately thrown  open,  and  the  party  entered  a  long  room,  in 

Vol.  L— 14 


158  THE   OXONIANS. 

which  were  several  groups  of  worrif  n  at  work,  under  various 
superintendents. 

Almost  the  whole  of  these  little  sempstresses  were  young 
women,  and  some  of  them  exceejhnjrly  [)rt'i!y.  The  entrance 
of  two  such  tashioriahle  men  as  Lord  Orville  and  Frank  Hart- 
ley was  the  sijjnal  for  a  number  of  little  espici^leries,  and  a 
hundred  significant  glances  exch.inged  between  each  other, 
"a  Z'inju,"  as  the  French  say,  of  their  task-mistresses. 

That  some  of  these  glances  were  directed  towards  the  gen- 
tlemen themselves  we  do  not  deny  ;  nor  did  the  presence  of 
Lady  Orville  and  Emily  prevent  their  being  returned  in  kind  ; 
or  impede  a  lew  whispered  compliments,  as  they  took  up  and 
admired  the  various  articles  which  were  displayed.  These 
little  whispers  were  received  with  affected  blushes,  and  a  giggle 
of  delight,  which  was  communicated  to  their  companions,  by 
one  of  the  aforesaid  significant  glances  from  the  distinguished 
fair  one. 

While  Emily  was  trying  on  a  tarban.  Lord  Orville  discerned, 
for  the  first  time,  a  young  female,  at  some  distance  from  her 
companions,  anxiously  and  industriously  engaged  upon  some 
tambour  work.  This  young  person,  unlike  the  rest,  had  con- 
tinued to  ply  her  needle  without  taking  any  apparent  notice  of 
the  party.  She  was  dressed  in  deep,  though  humble,  mourn- 
ing ;  and  contrived  so  to  conceal  her  face  by  the  attitude  in 
which  she  worked,  and  by  a  profusion  of  fine  black  hair,  that 
Orville  could  not,  with  all  his  manoeuvring,  discover  whether 
she  was  handsome  or  ugly. 

Withdrawing  Hartley  from  a  flirtation  with  two  or  three 
young  women,  who  seemed  but  too  ready  to  give  both  him 
and  his  friend  encouragement,  by  the  forwardness  of  their 
manners,  he  directed  his  attention  to  this  newly-discovered 
beauty,  by  saying  :  "  Egad,  Hartley,  we  have  missed  the  finest 
woman  in  the  room,  after  all,  if  we  may  juilge  by  her  figure." 

Hartley  turned  his  eyes  in  the  direction  pointed  out  by  Or- 
ville, and  saw  a  person,  rather  above  the  middle  height,  bend- 
ing over  a  tambour  frame.  She  still  continued  in  that  position, 
in  which  it  was  impossible  to  see  her  face  ;  but  her  figure 
seemed  to  be  of  exquisite  proportions.  Her  head  nearly  rested 
on  the  frame,  so  that  her  work  was  nearly  covered  with  a  pro- 
fusion of  large  glossy  ringlets.  Two  delicate  hands  were  also 
perceptible,  plying  the  tambour  needle  with  apparently  un- 
wearied industry  ;  while  a  foot,  corresponding  in  proportion 
and  beauty  with  the  hands,  peeped  from  beneath  the  black 


THE  OXONIANS.  159 

crape  dress  in  which  she  was  so  completely  enveloped,  that 
nothing  but  the  white  throat  was  visible  above  it. 

"  What  an  attitude  and  figure  for  a  picture  of  Penelope,'* 
exclaimed  Orville,  in  an  under-tone  to  Hartley ;  "  we  must  see 
her  nearer." 

With  <his  intention,  and  apparently  with  the  view  of  inspect- 
ing her  work,  they  sauntered  towards  the  embroidress,  who  sat 
at  some  distance  from  her  fellow-workwomen,  as  though  she 
disliked  a  nearer  neighbourhood.  Startled  at  their  approach, 
which  was  not  unobserved  by  the  object  of  their  attention  ; 
the  only  notice  she  Sfcined  to  take  of  i»,  was  by  bending  her 
head  closer  over  iier  frame,  and  striving  still  more  to  screen 
her  countenance  from  observation.  As  they  approached,  this 
determination  at  concealment  became  so  evident  as  to  rouse 
their  curiosity,  but  although  they  had  now  come  quite  close  to 
her,  she  did  not  raise  her  head. 

They  perceived  that  her  hands  trembled,  and  that  she  hardly 
knew  where  she  placed  the  needle  ;  and  as  Hartley,  at  length, 
leaned  quite  over  her  work,  he  heard  her  breathe  so  hard  and 
audibly,  that  every  respiration  seemed  almost  a  sob.  At  this 
instant,  unable  any  longer  to  conceal  her  countenance  or  re- 
strain her  agitation,  the  needle  dropped  from  her  trembling 
hand,  she  sunk  back  in'  her  chair,  her  black  hair  fell  from  her 
face,  and  discovered  the  pale  but  still  beautiful  features  of  Ca- 
roline Dormer. 

The  eflPect  of  this  apparition  upon  Hartley  was  instanta- 
neous. The  blood  rushed  into  his  face,  then  receded  to  his 
heart,  leaving  him  almost  as  pale  as  Caroline  His  cruel  ne- 
glect flashed  at  once  upon  his  memory ;  and  it  was  only  owing 
to  Orville's  presence  of  mind,  who  had  perceived  the  recogni- 
tion ;  that  he  did  not  betray  his  agitation,  and  exhibit  a  scene 
which  might  have  involved  himself  in  ridicule,  and  excited  un- 
worthy suspicions  of  Caroline. 

As  it  was,  the  slight  commotion  attracted  the  attention  of 
one  of  the  task-mistrf^sses  ;  to  whom  Orville  said,  that  their 
sudden  approach  had  alarmed  the  young  lady  ;  and,  apolo- 
gizing for  the  ciicumstance,  requested  a  glass  of  water,  to  re- 
cover her.  The  water  was  soon  brought,  accompanied  by  a 
smart  reprimand  from  the  termigant  ;  and  Orville  led  Hartley 
away,  while  the  young  ladies  laughed  at  the  affected  squeam- 
ishness  of  Miss  Dormer 

Lady  Or?ilIe  and  Emily  were,  fortunately,  still  intent  on  the 
important  circumstance  of  choosing  their  dresses  for  the  fancy 
ball. 


160  THE   OXONIANS. 

"  I  see,"  said  Orville,  '*  that  she  is  an  old  acquaintance. 
She  is  a  beautiful  girl,  and  you  seem  to  be  a  happy  man, 
Hartley." 

"  I  would  give  worlds  to  epeak  to  her,"  replied  Hartley, 
"but  I  dare  not." 

"  Worlds,  nonsense.  Worlds,  to  speak  to  a  milliner !  If  it 
be  really  as  you  say,  that  you  do  not  know  how  to  obtain  an 
interview,  and  wish  it ;  why  not  go  up  and  admire  her  work, 
and  during  Ihe  conversation,  name  some  time  and  place  ?  rely 
upon  it,  it  will  be  attended  to." 

"  Orville,  you  don't  know  her.  How  she  came  to  be  in 
such  a  situation  as  this,  f  am  at  a  loss  to  conceive." 

"•  Nay,  your  curiosity  need  not  long  remain  ungratified.  I 
see  I  must  still  be  your  tutor,  though  I  whs  in  hopes  by  this 
time  you  might  go  alone."  Then,  raising  his  voire,  "  bv-the- 
by,"  said  he,  "•  Hartley,  I  have  not  given  you  that  address  I 
promised  you.  1  will  give  it  you  n«>w,"  and  tearing  a  leaf 
from  his  pocket-book,  he  apparently  wrote  an  atldr^-ss.  Then, 
ahowjna  the  paper,  instead  of  an  address.  Hartley  read  the 

words,  "I  must  see  you ;  meet  me  this  evening  at at  eight ; 

pray  do  not  fail."  "  Is  that  right  ?"  and  he  folded  it  up  in  as 
small  a  compass  as  possible,  and  gave  it  to  Hartley.  Then, 
walking  up  again  in  the  direction  of  Carolirie's  place,  he 
engaged  the  women  who  were  nearest  to  her  in  conversa- 
tion. During  this  period  Hartley  approached  Caroline,  as 
though  with  the  intention  of  uierely  asking  if  she  had  recovered 
from  her  fright,  and  dropped  the  paper  upon  the  work  before 
her.  A  blusii  (jverspread  her  features,  a  slight  sensation  of 
repugnance  appeared  to  agitate  her  frame  ;  then,  seizing  the 
paper,  and  hastily  hiding  it  in  her  bosom,  that  universal  pocket 
of  a  woman,  she  cast  one  glance  of  mingled  tenderne-ss  and 
reproach  at  Hartley,  ami  resumed  her  work .  tlioui:h  with  such 
trembling  hands,  that  there  is  little  doubt  but  every  stitch  was 
obliged  to  be  unpicked,  and  that  the  day  in  question  proved  a 
^^  dies  non"  as  far  as  it  regarded  Caroline's  labour  in  the  ser- 
vice of  the  Regent-street  emporium. 

By  this  time  Lady  Orville  had  expended  her  whole  stock  of 
curiosity,  and  became  herself  tired  of  tiring  the  patience  of 
her  shopKceping  attendants ;  this  was  the  only  circumstance 
that  ever  induced  her  to  relieve  them  from  the  trouble  she  gave 
them.  In  her  eyes,  such  people  were  made  for  no  other  pur- 
poses than  to  wait  upon  the  pleasures,  and  to  serve  the  caprices. 
of  the  great ;  and  the  most  elaborate  trouble  she  could  pos 
.libly  occasion  them  wasj  in  her  mind,  more  than  repaid,  by  a 


THE   OXONL\NS.  161 

tondescending  nod  of  "good  morning,"  as  she  resumed  her 
"vis-a-vig,  and  drove  away  to  the  park. 

As  for  Hartley,  he  had  been  startled  into  himself  again  by 
the  unexpected  sight  of  Caroline.  A  few  months  of  London 
dissipation,  under  the  auspices  of  such  a  man  as  Orville,  had 
not  deadened,  though  it  might  have  repressed,  those  generous 
feelings  of  youth,  which  were  the  principal  characteristics  of 
his  heart,  when  we  first  saw  him  stealing  from  his  noisy  com- 
panions to  the  garden  of  the  poor  curate  at  Oxford. 

For  the  first  few  weeks,  thoughts  of  Caroline  were  per- 
petually in  his  mind,  and  he  wrote  two  or  three  letters,  filled 
with  protestations  of  the  same  warmth  of  affection  as  that 
which  had  characterized  his  conversation  at  their  parting  inter- 
view. During  this  short  period  the  post  time  that  had  brought 
him  a  letter  from  her  was  anxiously  looked  for,  and  considered 
the  brightest  hour  of  the  day.  A  series,  however,  of  dissi- 
pated pleasures  ;  a  constant  succession  of  female  society ;  two 
or  three  liaisons,  partly  platonic  and  partly  of  a  different  cha- 
racter ;  soon  relaxed  the  nerves  of  his  attachment  (if  we  may 
use  the  expression)  to  Caroline,  as  well  as  the  purity  of  his 
mind  ;  and  his  own  neglect  of  their  correspondence  soon 
made  the  appearance  of  her  letters  a  reproach,  rather  than  a 
pleasure  to  him.  He  suflfered  them  to  lay  unopened  for  a  day 
on  his  dressing-table  ;  and  we  are  ashamed  to  say,  that  they  at 
length  remained  unanswered,  if  not  unperused.  There  is 
nothing  so  subversive  of  that  generous  and  virtuous  attach- 
ment which  the  youthful  heart  feels  towards  a  woman  as  the 
kind  of  life  into  which  Lord  Orville  introduced  Hartley.  It 
was  not,  like  that  of  Lascelles,  suflSciently  broad  to  make  his 
heart  turn  with  disgust  from  the  vice,  or  laxity  of  morals, 
which  it  exhibited ;  but  was  so  disguised  with  the  affectation 
of  delicacy,  or  rather  with  that  substitution  of  elegance  which 
so  often  passes  for  delicacy,  that  there  was  every  thing  to 
allure,  and  nothing  to  disgust.  There  was  sufficient  refine- 
ment to  banish  all  idea  of  that  grossierte  which  would  hare 
driven  Hartley  at  once  from  the  pursuit  of  pleasure  that  par- 
took of  this  character ;  and  so  much  excitement  of  the  pas- 
sions, kept  up  by  the  aid  of  music  and  conversation,  that  half 
the  minds  in  the  world  would  have  denominated  these  pursuits 
merely  elegant  enjoyments,  which  were  in  fact  the  mere  sen- 
sual indulgence  of  vicious  propensities. 

In  the  midst  of  such  a  career  as  this,  no  wonder  that  Care-, 
line  was  forgotten  j  or,  if  some  recoUectiona  of  her  intruded 

14* 


163  THE   OXONlATiS. 

at  dressing  time,  or  in  the  first  waking  raoments  of  the  mom 
ing ;  no  wonder  that  they  were  soon  banished  by  those  thick  • 
coming  engagements  which  now  filled  the  visiting-book  ol 
Hartley. 

Although,  however,  his  heart  might  not  be  influenced  by  the 
mere  remembrance  of  all  that  had  passed  between  them,  it 
could  not  withstand  her  personal  appearance.  'I"he  unex- 
pected apparition  in  the  work-room  had  recalled  him  to  all 
that  he  had  so  long  forgotten  ;  the  study  of  the  old  curate — 
the  little  garden  behind  the  parsonage — the  arbour  in  the  green 
walk— all  rushed  at  once  into  his  memory,  and  called  up  the  long 
buried,  though  not  yet  dead,  afiections  of  his  heart,  "  hke 
spirits  from  the  vasty  deep  ;"  and  they  were  accompanied  with 
many  a  bitter  pang  for  the  undeserved  neglect  with  which  he 
had  treated  Caroline.  Her  pale  face  too,  and  dim  eye,  so  un- 
like the  buoyant  health  in  which  he  had  left  her,  did  not  fail  to 
add  to  the  impression  he  had  received. 

As  they  rode  to  the  park,  Hartley  was  two  or  three  times 
on  the  point  of  making  Lord  Orville  the  confidant  of  his  early 
affection  ;  but  Orville,  who  ridiculed  the  idea  of  a  serious  at- 
tachment for  a  milliner,  rallied  him  so  unmercifully  on  his  wan 
countenance,  and  on  the  evident  efiect  which  the  unexpected 
meeting  had  produced,  that  Hartley  shrunk  instinctively  fron> 
making  the  communication  ;  wiiile  his  heart  turned  sick  at  tht 
libertine  allusions,  and  the  laughing  congratulations,  with 
which  Orville  spoke  of  tlie  "sentimental  sempstress,"  and 
anticipated  the  result  of  Hartley's  expected  interview. 

In  agreeing  to  the  solicitation  for  a  meeting,  Hartley,  ii, 
spite  of  his  new  mode  of  life,  had  not  harboured  a  thought 
derogatory  to  the  honour  of  Caroline.  The  revival  of  all  hi? 
old  feelings  of  affection,  mingled  with  a  strong  curiosity  ti» 
■know  how  she  could  come  into  such  a  situation,  were  the 
principal  incentives  to  the  wish  ;  no  evil  intention,  no  insi 
dious  motive,  as  yet  mingled  with  his  intentions  or  his  ideas  ; 
nor  could  the  raillery  of  Orville  induce  him  to  think  more 
lightly  of  her,  because  he  found  her  in  such  a  situation  as  that 
in  which  he  had  discovered  her. 

As  for  Caroline,  she  could  not  recover  from  the  effects  oi 
this  first  meeting  with  Hartley.  Although  it  was  natural  that  she 
should  expect  to  meet  him  in  London  ;  and  thought  that  her 
heart  was  prepared  to  encounter  him  with  the  indifference 
which  his  neglect  of  her  had  deserved  ;  yet  she  bad  calculated 
wrongly  on  her  strength ;  and,  under  such  circumstance?, 
what  woman  could  calculate  rightJv  ?     There  was  no  occasion 


THE  OXONIANS.  163 

for  a  sight  of  Hartley  to  recall  all  the  scenes  of  their  former 
intimacy  to  Iwr  recollection  ;  the  study,  tht  garden,  the  arbour, 
were  all  too  strongly  impressed  upon  her  memory  to  require 
any  adventitious  aid  to  recall  them.  A  woman's  heart  does 
not  so  easily  forget  these  things  as  that  of  a  man.  Such  feel- 
ings are  all  in  all  to  a  woman  ;  while  to  a  man  they  are  in 
general  the  mere  episodes  to  greater,  though  not  sweeter  ex- 
citement. To  a  man,  they  are  reliefs  from  the  severer  labours, 
the  more  important  duties,  or  rather  pursuits  of  life ;  to  a 
woman,  they  are  life  itself,  Carohne  could  scarcely  breathe 
from  agitation  when  she  placed  Hartley's  note  in  her  bosom  ; 
yet,  though  her  heart  beat  against  it  most  tumultuously,  she 
could  not  but  acknowledge  that  it  beat  less  unhappily.  She 
hurried  away,  the  first  opportunity  that  her  task  allowed  her  j 
and  luckily  the  pencil,  and  the  hurried  manner  with  which  it 
had  been  written,  did  not  permit  her  to  discover  that  it  was 
not  Hartley's  own  hand-writing. 

At  first,  the  idea  of  again  seeing  him  to  whom  she  had  de- 
voted her  earliest  and  warmest  affection,  in  mutual  confidence ; 
and  the  hope  that  the  interview  might  produce  some  explana- 
tion of  Hartley's  neglect  that  would  prove  it  not  to  have  been 
culpable ;  gave  to  CaroUne  the  only  feeling  of  pleasure  her 
poor  heart  had  experienced  for  months.  But  these  hopes, 
faint  as  they  were,  were  soon  blighted  at  the  recollection,  that, 
since  their  parting,  circumstances  had  rendered  the  distance 
that  existed  between  their  situation  still  greater  than  it  was  be- 
fore. She  was  then,  as  now,  the  daughter  of  a  gentleman, 
though  a  poor  one ;  but  she  was  then  hving  under  his  roof, 
respectably  if  not  splendidly ;  and  mixing  in  the  society  of  that 
caste  in  which  she  had  been  born  :  now,  she  was,  in  her  own 
eyes,  deemed  a  menial ;  earning  her  daily  bread,  the  com- 
panion of  beings  of  an  inferior  order,  whose  vulgarity  and  dif- 
ference of  manners  forced  themselves  unpleasantly,  even  on 
the  patient  and  forbearing  mind  of  Caroline. 

If  Hartley's  family  would  have  shrunk  from  the  thoughts  of 
uniting  their  son  with  the  daughter  of  a  poor  clergyman  ;  with 
how  much  more  indignation  would  they  discard  the  idea  of  re- 
ceiving a  hired  sempstress  as  his  wife — one  who  laboured  for 
a  weekly  pittance  on  that  finery  which  they  were  born  to  wear. 

Poor  Caroline  felt  all  this,  and  her  heart  swelled  with  grief 
almost  to  bursting.  Though  reason  told  her  there  could  be  no 
hope ;  and  that  it  was  better  she  should  continue  to  think 
Hartley  cruel  and  neglectful,  than  hare  her  tender  feelings 


164  THE  OXONIANS. 

again  roused  by  being  undeceived  in  a  supposition  which  at 
least  called  her  pride  in  to  her  support,  if  it  did  not  conquer 
her  feelings  of  affection  ;  yet  she  still  clung  to  the  idea  ol" 
proving  him  not  to  be  unworthy  of  the  love  with  which  he  had 
inspired  her  ;  and  with  this  hope  she  at  length  determined  upon 
granting  the  solicited  interview — and,  when  has  woman  deter- 
mined otherwise,  than  to  act  upon  the  strong  impulses  of  the 
heart,  rather  than  upon  the  less  vivid  arguments  of  reason. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

THE    INTERVIEW. 

They  met — as  lovers  meet — with  faltering  tongues — 
With  glistening  eyes — and  trembling  hands — and  lips 
That  quivered  with  the  greeting  that  they  gave  ; — 
He  half  shame — half  rapture — she  but  half  reproach — 
For  pleasure  killed  her  anger.  Brooes, 

Rated,  as  we  have  been,  by  the  fastidiousness  of  those 
critics  who  think  a  page  sullied  by  naming  the  possibility  of 
a  vice ;  and  who  seem  to  suppose  no  book  fit  to  be  read  that 
is  not  a  mere  history  of  the  virtues  of  mankind ;  we  confess 
ourselves  rather  at  a  loss,  when  the  true  system  of  that  human 
nature,  which  it  is  our  attempt  to  delineate,  will  force  into  our 
scenes  those  vices  which  form,  alas !  the  aggregate  of  the 
human  drama. 

Had  it  been  our  lot  to  have  been  born  in  some  Utopia,  from 
which  vice  had  been  excluded,  in  which  human  passions  led 
alone  to  the  accomplishment  of  virtuous  ends,  our  pages 
might  have  been  mere  transcripts  of  the  purity  of  human  na> 
ture  ;  but  in  any  true  picture  of  a  society  constituted  as  ours 
is,  vice  must  mingle  in  the  dance  of  the  passions,  and  become 
in  its  turn  a  prominent  feature  in  the  scene.  It  is  the  fault  ol 
the  nature  that  is  to  be  delineated,  and  not  of  the  delineator  ; 
we  write  things  as  they  are,  and  not  things  as  they  ought  to 
be,  and  as  we  would  wish  they  should  be. 

Yet,  perhaps  our  readers,  nay,  even  these  fastidious  critics 
themselves,  would  find  any  delineation  of  society  but  a  dull 


THE   OXONIANS.  165 

piece  of  business,  were  all  the  women  who  constitute  it 
Pamelas,  and  all  the  men  Sir  Charles  Grandisons.  A  history 
of  society  must  be  a  melange  ;  a  general  mixture  of  virtues 
and  vices,  by  turns  predominant,  according  to  the  temptations 
and  impulses  by  which  the  actions  of  men  are  guided.  There 
are  few  "  faultless  monsters"  in  the  world  ;  and  they  are  less 
likely  to  be  found  in  that  class  of  society  where  there  is  so 
much  to  tempt  the  will,  and  to  excite  the  passions,  as  that 
which  we  are  attempting  to  delineate.  We  scarcely  know 
why  we  have  been  led  into  this  kind  of  apologetic  digression  ; 
for  a  novelist  has  no  right  to  make  an  apology  when  merely 
describing  people  and  passions  that  exist,  and  things  that  are  ; 
but  as  our  thoughts  were  fixed  upon  Caroline  Dormer,  and  on 
the  dangerous  position  in  which  circumstances  had  placed  her, 
they  were  naturally  led  to  diverge  for  a  moment  to  a  class  of 
females  who  are  lost  by  the  flattery  of  the  one  sex,  and  by  the 
heartlessness  of  the  other.  For,  alas  I  how  many,  who  have 
been  led  for  a  moment  astray  by  the  former,  would  have  re- 
deemed their  own  good  opinion  and  that  of  others,  had  it  not 
been  for  the  perdition  that  is  entailed  upon  them  by  the  con- 
tempt and  reproaches  of  the  latter.  We  question  much, 
whetiier  more  women  have  not  been  lost  by  the  conduct  of 
their  own  sex  tha;i  by  that  of  ours  ;  and  whether  the  cruel 
heartless  fastidiousness  of  those  females  who  are  out  of  the 
reach  of  temptation  from  circumstances,  or  remain  untempted 
from  their  inability  to  tempt,  has  not  more  to  answer  for,  in 
the  loss  of  female  repnidtion,  and  in  that  degradation  of  female 
character  which  society  so  frequently  exhibits,  than  all  those 
arts  of  rnen  to  which  they  are  generally  attributed. 

It  excites  our  indignation  to  see  the  cold  scorn  with  which  a 
fallen  woman  is  spoken  of,  and  the  heartless  ple&sure  with 
which  her  errors  are  blazoned  ;  by  those  who,  for  the  credit 
of  their  s^ex,  should  ron^eal  them  ;  and  who,  for  the  honour  of 
humfm  nature,  should  attempt  to  redeem  the  victims  from  their 
consequences. 

Yet,  how  is  this  lapse  of  virtue  overlooked,  where  the  frail 
one  can  contribute  to  the  eclat  or  the  entertainment  of  a 
partv.  Nay,  with  what  avidity  have  we  seen  women,  whose 
laxity  of  morals  has  been  as  notorious  as  noonday,  courted  by 
the  first  and  the  most  fastidious  in  society,  merely  from  the 
circumstance  of  their  musical  acquirement. 

Look  at  the  foreigners,  who  grace,  or  rather  disgrace,  the 
saloons  of  so  many  of  our  fashionable  mansions  ;  are  their 
Jiaisons  unknown  ?  is  the  general  tenor  of  their  lives  a  se- 


16G  THE  OXONIAKS. 

cret  ?  is  not  the  profligacy  of  their  conduct  as  notorious  as 
though  it  has  been  ajicheed  with  the  government  proclama- 
tions at  the  Horse  Guards  ? 

Yet,  look  at  them,  received  and  treated  as  the  stars  of  a 
brilliant  assembly.  See  the  mothers  and  daughters  of  our 
aristocracy  crowding  round  the  harps  and  pianos,  to  hear  these 
wantons  sinji,  and  s«jliciting  presentations,  and  engaging  them 
for  their  next  concert,  to  seat  them  at  the  same  table  with  the 
most  virtuous  and  exalted  of  the  land  ;  while  there  is  scarcely 
a  husband,  or  brother,  that  is  not  planning,  by  every  means 
in  his  power,  to  obtain  an  introduction  of  a  diflferent  nature. 
Does  the  atmosphere  of  Paris,  or  the  blue  skies  of  Italy,  ren- 
der vice  less  vicious,  or  its  examples  less  contagious  ?  does  the 
being  a  foreigner  give  the  p'ivilege  of  profligacy  ?  or  does  the 
shameless  publicity  with  which  a  career  of  licentiousness  is 
pursued,  take  from  its  moral  turpitude  ?  In  our  opinion,  this 
very  publicity  is  an  aggravation  of  the  oflfence.  Let  vice  hide 
its  head  in  those  recesses  of  society  where  it  will  not  call  a 
blush  into  the  face  of  the  virtuous.  Let  it  shrink  into  those 
places  where  its  exaniple  can  do  no  harm  ;  let  it  show  its  own 
sense  of  its  own  hideousness  by  its  fears  of  publicity  ;  and  it 
is  not  then  calculated  to  do  the  same  mischief  as  when  it  is 
seen  to  show  its  face  with  impunity,  and  stands,  unblushing 
and  unshrinking,  side  by  side  with  virtue,  to  show  the  world 
how  little  difference  there  is,  between  the  consideration  paid 
to  one  and  to  the  other. 

These,  too,  are  generally  women  acquiring  ample  means  of 
independence  from  the  immense  encourag<  ment  w  hich  is  given 
to  their  talent  ;  and  who  have'  therefore  no  oiher  apology 
for  their  profligacy  than  their  depraved  inclinations.  Auumg 
these,  as  in  all  other  classes,  there  are  certainly  exceptions  ; 
and  one  splendid  one  If  we  may  credit  her  own  confession, 
as  well  as  public  rumour,  she  has  been  tempted  by  alniost  every 
crowned  bead  in  Europe  ;  and  is  in  possession  of  presents 
from  most  of  them,  without  a  blot  having  been  cast  upon  the 
escutcheon  of  her  (air  fame. 

We  think  we  see  the  smile  of  contempt  which  curls  upon 
the  lips  of  the  exquisite  and  the  exclusive,  as  they  recollect 
that  all  this  is  called  forth  by  such  a  contemptible  persorage  as 
a  little  milliner  ;  by  one  of  those  who,  by  a  certain  class,  are 
considered  to  he  endowed  with  beauty  for  no  other  purpose 
than  to  add  to  their  own  unworthy  conquests  and  pleasures. 

Caroline  Dormer  was,  however,  far  superior  to  the  situation 
in  which  we  last  saw  her ;  her  education  had  fitted  her  (ox 


THE   OXONIANS.  167 

other  and  better  things,  and  her  mind  had  not  been  reduced 
with  her  circumstances.  She  had  loved  Hartley  with  all  the 
energy  and  devotedness  of  which  her  young  he  irt  was  capa- 
ble. She  had  wept  with  agony  over  his  undeserved  neglect  ; 
but  she  had  suffered  in  silence.  She  had  passively  permitted 
the  march  "of  circuuistances,  which  had  reduced  her  to  her 
present  situation,  without  a  struggle  to  avoid  it.  Hopeless  of 
him,  she  had  become  hopeless  of  every  thing  else  ;  hfe  had 
become  distasteful,  and  her  heart  sickened  under  the  burden 
of  her  disappointment.  Pleasure,  pain,  labour,  and  ease 
were  alike  indifferent ;  or  rather  every  other  feeling  and  idea 
was  absorded  in  that  one  great  sensation  which  occupied 
every  thought  and  feeUng  of  her  soul.  Whatever  might  be 
her  occupation.  Hartley,  his  attachment,  and  his  neglect  were 
the  subject  of  her  meditations  and  regret.  His  figure  haunted 
her  in  her  sleep  ;  and  her  waking  dreams  always  pictured 
him  to  her  imagination,  and  recalled  his  broken  vows  and  vio- 
lated promises  to  her  recollection. 

Her  mind  thus  occupied  by  his  image,  no  wonder  at  the 
agitation  she  experienced  at  the  sight  of  him,  nor  of  that 
which  his  brief  note  produced.  At  first,  she  determined  to 
avoid  him  :  she  had,  during  her  short  residence  in  London, 
learned  enough  to  know  the  light  in  which  some  one  or  two  of 
her  companions  were  looked  upon  by  men  their  superiors  in 
rank  ;  and  thous^h  she  did  not  place  herself  upon  a  level  with 
these  light-minded  and  vain  creatures,  yet  she  dreaded  Hart- 
ley's partaking  of  the  same  sentiments  as  the  men  with  whom 
he  associated.  She  saw  how  different  the  world  was  in  reality 
to  that  which  they  had  both  pictured  it  in  their  earliest  days  ; 
yet  was  there  still  that  tinge  of  romance  in  her  disposition, 
which,  almost  unknown  to  herself,  whispered  a  hope  that  the 
difference  of  their  rank  might  not  prove  an  insuperable  barrier 
to  their  union.  She  felt  her  superiority  to  her  companions, 
and  therefore  never  sunk  herself  to  a  level  with  them  in  her 
own  opinion,  and  she  trusted  this  superiority  would  be  ac- 
knowledged by  others  as  well  as  by  herself ;  by  her  com- 
panions themselves  it  was  felt,  but  only  to  generate  their  envy, 
and  to  tempt  their  vulgar  ridicule. 

Caroline  had  imagined  that  she  had  resigned  herself  entirely 
to  her  fate,  and  that  she  had  made  up  her  mind  to  the  com- 
plete loss  of  Hartley  ;  his  api)earance,  however,  soon  con- 
vinced her  to  the  contrary  ;  and  that  tinge  of  the  romantic  in 
her  disposition,  in  spite  of  her  better  reason,  soon  induced  her 
fo  determine  upon  granting  the  desired  interview.     This  de- 


168  THE  OXOMANS. 

termination,  however,  was  not  adopted  without  a  great  deal 
of  hesitation  :  though  her  heart  throbbed  with  affection  for 
Hartley,  it  was  not  free  from  indignation  at  his  neglect ;  and 
though  her  feelings  in  his  favour  hurried  her  into  hopes  that 
this  might  be  satisfactorily  explained,  yet  her  better  judgment 
whispered  that  she  had  better  remain  in  her  present  misery, 
than  run  the  risk  of  having  it  removed  by  temporary  happiness, 
and  renewed  by  future  disappointments.  It  is  scarcely  neces- 
sary to  say,  that  womanhood  got  the  "better  of  reason  ;  for. 
where  there  is  real  affection  in  the  case,  when  was  it  ever  other- 
wise ?  As  the  hour  approached,  her  agitation  increased  ;  and* 
at  the  last  moment  she  was  on  the  point  of  relinquishing  her 
determination,  when  all  their  former  meetings  rushing  at  once 
upon  her  memory,  she  threw  on  her  shawl,  and  hurried  to  the 
place  of  appointment. 

Hartley  was  already  there  ;  so  that  she  had  neither  the  bit- 
terness of  that  moment  of  anxious  suspense,  which  a  want  of 
implicit  punctuality  in  such  appointments  occasions  ;  nor  the 
opportunity  which  such  a  moment  might  have  afforded  for  re- 
flection, and  for  a  change  in  her  resolution.  Her  agitation  pre 
vented  her  meeting  the  animated  greeting  of  Hartley  with  an 
thing  but  a  faint  smile.  He  drew  her  arm  silently  within  his, 
and,  avoiding  the  crowd  that  was  passing  through  that  part  of 
the  Park  where  they  had  met ;  they  sauntered  into  the  more 
solitary  walks,  to  impart  to  each  other  all  that  had  passed 
since  they  had  met  in  the  garden  of  the  good  curate  at  Oxford. 

Caroline's  simple  story  was  soon  told  ;  she  had  no  succes- 
sion of  passions  to  tinge  the  intervening  months  with  variety  : 
her  whole  soul  had  been  occupied  by  her  love  for  Hartley,  and 
her  grief  at  his  desertion,  and  for  the  death  of  her  father. 

The  poor  curate  had  been  snatched  suddenly  from  the  world 
while  in  the  performance  of  his  clerical  duties  ;  and  Caroline 
found  herself  left  alone,  utterly  unprovided  for,  with  all  tli 
ideas  and  feelings  of  a  gentlewoman,  without  the  slightr 
means  for  her  support.     Her  father's  successor  desired  possr 
sion  of  the  house  as  soon  as  decency  permitted  him  to  turn  ii 
mourning  occupant  out ;   for  church  preferment  is  as  eagerly 
and   rapaciously  grasped   by   the   teachers  of  meekness  and 
Christianity,  as  that  of  a  less  sacred  nature  by  less  sacred  cha- 
racters ;  and  Caroline  found  herself  obliged  to  seek  an  asylum 
in  the  house  of  an  humble  and  poor  relative  in  London. 

Too  proud,  as  well  as  too  just,  to  owe  her  maintenance  to 
those  who  could  ill  afford  to  support  the  expense  ;  the  moment 
of  her  arrival,  she  urged  her  relative  to  look  out  in  every 


THE   OXONIANS.  169 

direction  for  some  means  by  which  she  might  prevent  her  being 
a  burthen  to  any  one.  Caroline  was  well  educated,  and  ac- 
complished beyond  what  might  have  been  expected  from  the 
limited  income  of  her  father.  Her  accomplishments  had  been 
derived  from  her  mother,  who  had  been  a  very  superior  wo- 
man ;  and  who  had  imparted  all  to  her  daughter  that  she  had 
derived  from  a  very  excellent  education.  It  was  her  wish, 
therefore,  to  turn  these  talents  to  account,  and  to  engage  her- 
self as  governess  in  some  seminary,  or  family.  Unhappily, 
however,  the  little  interest  her  relative  possessed,  did  not  lie 
in  the  direction  by  which  this  desirable  end  could  be  ac- 
complished ;  and  the  want  of  some  high  recommendation,  ren- 
dered her  applications  after  advertised  situations  abortive. 

Tired  of  maintaining  her,  this  person,  having  at  length  heard 
of  a  vacancy  in  the  establishment  in  Regent-street ;  and 
knowing  Caroline's  ingenuity  and  taste  in  embroidery  ;  she 
urged  her  acceptance  of  it  with  so  much  pertinacity,  that  re- 
pugnant as  it  was  to  her  pi-ide,  Caroline  became  an  inmate 
and  a  sempstress  in  this  emporium  of  female  finery. 

These  artless  annals  of  her  life  were  soon  recapitulated  by 
Caroline  to  her  lover,  with  a  truth  and  ingenuousness  which 
Hartley  dared  not  imitate  in  his  recital  to  her.  How  different, 
indeed,  had  been  his  life !  what  a  detail  of  infidelities  to  his 
vows  !  what  an  exhibition  of  heartless  inconstancy  !  how  many 
scenes  bordering  upon  libertinisrfi  must  he  not  have  represented, 
had  he  given  any  true  narrative  of  the  life  he  had  led  since 
their  last  meeting,  when  he  had  declared  that  he  loved  her, 
and  only  her  ;  and  that  he  should  love  her,  and  only  her,  for  ever. 

The  sight  of  Caroline  ;  the  renewal  of  their  intercourse  ; 
the  artless  recital  of  her  melancholy  adventures  ;  recalled, 
however,  all  his  former  love  ;  while  the  sufferings  she  had  un- 
dergone ;  the  patient  resignation  with  which  his  neglect  of  her 
had  been  borne  :  gave  an  additional  tenderness  to  all  his  feel- 
ings, that  rendered  the  renewal  of  this  intimacy  delightful. 
Hours  flew  on,  while  they  were  thus  indulging  in  recollections 
of  their  life  in  Oxford  ;  and  it  was  not  till  the  chimes  sounded 
the  three  quarters  past  ten,  that  Caroline  recalled  to  mind  the 
regulation  which  compelled  her  to  return  to  Regent-street  by 
eleven.  With  this  thought,  too,  came  that  of  the  imprudence 
of  remaining  so  late,  and  alone,  with  Hartley  ;  and  what  he 
himself  might  think  of  such  an  imprudence,  formed  not  the 
least  part  of  her  distress. 

As  she  detailed  this  to  him.  Hartley  silently  cursed  Regent- 
street,  the  tambour  frame,  and  the  Horse-guards,  that  so  imperti- 

VoL.  I.— 15 


170  THE    OXOMANS, 

nently  put  them  in  mind  of  the  hour.  He  had  not  tasted  any  plea- 
sure duriiii^  his  career  of  dissipation  that  had  equalled  his  con- 
versation, and  the  renewal  of  his  intercourse,  with  Caroline. 
There  was  a  freshness  about  his  feelings  ;  a  renovation  of  youth 
in  their  enjoyment ;  a  nature  about  the  delight  he  had  ex- 
perienced, so  difterent  from  the  '•'■fade  "  pleasures,  derived 
from  the  artificial  women  with  whom  he  had  lately  associated, 
that,  in  spite  of  her  humble  situation,  forced  a  comparison  on 
his  mind  not  at  all  unfavourable  to  Caroline.  During  their 
short  and  hurried  return  to  Regent-street,  she  had  promised  to 
meet  him  again ;  though  she  now  persisted  in  her  determi- 
Hation  to  bring  a  companion  in  whom  she  could  confide  :  nor 
could  all  Hartley's  entreaties  to  the  contrary,  make  her  change 
this  resolution.  The  moment,  therefore,  that  Caroline  should 
have  determined  on  this  companion,  she  was  to  inform  Hartley 
by  letter,  when  he  Avas  to  make  his  own  appointment  for 
another  interview. 

With  this  agreement  they  parted  :  Caroline  to  return  to  her 
solitary  bed,  with  the  recollections  of  the  evening  for  her  only 
companions  ;  and  to  think  on  all  that  her  lover  had  said  in  ex- 
tenuation of  his  late  conduct,  and  on  all  the  promises,  which 
his  manner,  rather  than  his  words,  had  given  her  for  the  future  : 
— Hartley,  to  hurry  through  a  late  dinner  in  his  dressing- 
room,  and  to  pursue  his  nightly  career  of  splendid  parties, 
which  left  little  room  for  recollections  of  Caroline,  till  his 
carriage  set  him  down  in  the  Albany,  where  he  had  now  taken 
up  his  residence,  exhausted  by  excitement  and  fatigue. 

Here,  however,  the  question  of  his  intentions  with  regard  to 
Caroline  forced  itself  upon  his  mind  ;  buthe  fell  asleep  before 
he  could  contrive  to  answer  it  satisfactorily. 


THE    OXONIANS.  171 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

RENCOUNTERS. 

Sir  Harry.     Why,  you  seem  playing  at  cross  purposes. 
Lord  W.     He  who  crosses  my  purpose,  shall  find  it  no  play ;  that 
I'll  assure  him. 

False  Weddino. 

On  quitting  Lord  Orvillo,  Langley  flew  home  to  delight  his 
wife  with  the  news  of  his  successful  application  ;  for  suc- 
cessful in  the  fullest  meaning  of  the  word  did  his  sanguine 
mind  consider  it.  To  his  surprise,  however,  he  learned  that 
Mrs.  Langley  was  not  within  ;  a  circumstance  which  the  more 
surprised  him,  since,  as  the  concealment  of  their  marriage 
did  not  permit  him  to  accompany  her,  she  very  seldom  left 
their  humble  domicile,  excepting  in  the  evening  with  her  child. 
Burthened  with  his  good  news,  Langley  was  half  angry  that  his 
wife  was  not  at  home  to  share  it  with  him  ;  but  giving  way  to 
his  natural  inclination  for  day  dreams,  he  sauntered  towards 
the  Park,  to  enjoy,  in  imagination,  all  the  anticipated  results 
of  the  kind  promises  of  Lord  Orville  ;  promises  which  we 
have  seen  were  very  likely  to  be  forgotten,  and  certain  to  be 
broken,  by  that  honourable  peer. 

In  the  mean  time,  his  wife,  who  had  very  little  dependence 
upon  the  performance  of  her  husband's  promise  of  an  appli- 
cation ;  and  almost  as  little  upon  the  result  of  it,  even  were  it 
made  ;  had  quitted  home,  with  the  determination  of  seeking 
out  the  maternal  uncle  before  alluded  to.  A  morning  paper 
had  announced  his  arrival  in  town,  and  his  domicile  at  the 
house  of  a  titled  relation  ;  and  it  was  towards  this  mansion 
that  Mrs.  Langley  directed  her  steps. 

Certain  that  this  attempt  would  never  receive  the  sanction 
of  her  husband,  who,  from  her  uncle's  conduct  to  her  mother 
at  her  marriage,  had  set  him  dewn  as  an  unfeeling  tyrant ;  she 
had  taken  advantage  of  his  absence,  which  generally  lasted 
the  whole  morning,  to  make  this  attempt  without  his  knowledge. 

During  her  walk,  she  summoned  all  the  recollections  of  her 
mother's  description  of  the  early  affection  of  her  brother,  to 
give  her  courage  to  persevere  in  the  attempt ;  and  arranged, 


172  THE    OXOMAK8. 

as  well  as  she  could,  her  short  story  in  her  mind  so  as  to  pro- 
duce the  best  effect.  Her  heart  beat  quickly  as  she  approached 
the  door,  but  sunk,  almost  to  sickening,  as  she  lifted  the 
knocker.  The  recollection,  however  of  the  duty  she  had  to 
perform,  the  hope  of  the  benefit  which  might  result  to  her  hus- 
band and  child,  and  the  knowledge  that  it  was  her  nearest 
relation  that  she  was  seeking,  gave  her  courage,  and  the  pon- 
derous knocker  dropped  from  her  hand  in  one  of  those  equi- 
vocal raps,  which  may  be  interpreted  either  double  or  single, 
according  to  circumstances.  The  door  flew  open  in  a  second 
in  the  hands  of  the  fat  porter,  while  three  or  four  lacquies  were 
on  the  alert  to  escort  any  "admitted"  visiter  to  the  morning 
saloon.  On  the  appearance,  however,  of  one,  not  on  the  list, 
they  lounged  back  to  their  newspapers,  or  their  fireside  gossip, 
which  the  knock  at  the  door  for  a  moment  had  interrupted. 
The  porter's  jolly  countenance  at  once  lost  its  good-natured 
expression  on  the  sight  of  a  pelisse  and  bonnet  rather  i'aded, 
and  a  lady  who  knocked  at  the  door  for  herself.  To  her  faul- 
tering  question,  which  she  could  scarcely  breathe  audibly  from 
her  pale  lips,  if  the  object  of  her  visit  was  within  ;  was  re- 
turned a  monotonous  "  not  at  home,"  pronounced  in  a  tone 
which  made  it  appear  as  though  the  surly  porter  uttered  it 
mechanically. 

To  those  who  have  made  a  great  exertion  to  bring  their 
mind  to  solicit  an  interview  of  importance,  and  vvho  have 
looked  forward  to  the  result  of  it  as  forming  an  epocha  in 
their  lives  ;  who  have  accomplished  the  courage  necessary  for 
the  operation,  through  many  hours  of  pain  and  indecision  ; 
the  mortification  arising  from  this  hackneyed  refusal  to  be  seen, 
will  be  easily  felt  ;  rendered  more  keen  too  by  the  notion  that 
one  has,  of  its  not  being  true. 

Mrs.  Langley  looked  wistfully  in  the  face  of  the  porter,  as 
she  faintly  requested  to  know  "  if  he  was  sure  he  was  right  ?" 

"  Not  at  home,"  asrain  reiterated  the  porter.  Mrs.  Langley 
tottered  down  the  steps,  and  the  door  closed  with  a  sound  that 
seemed  to  shut  out  from  her  heart  all  future  hope  ;  sucli  an 
effect  have  even  trifling  circumstances,  when  the  heart  has  been 
wrought  up  to  a  certain  pitch  of  misery  and  excitement.  She 
felt  that  the  difficulty  which  this  "  Not  at  home"  barrier  placed 
in  the  way  of  gaining  an  interview  with  her  uncle,  was  really 
as  formidable  as  though  he  had  been  shut  up  in  some  imprac- 
ticable fortress  ;  and  she  dreaded  that  a  letter  could  never  pro- 
duce the  dosircd  effect. 

Determined,  however,  to  persevere,  and   to  leave   nothing 


THE    OXONIANS.  173 

neglected  on  her  part  to  redeem  the  fortunes  of  her  husband  ; 
she  set  this  down  merely  as  a  single  disappointment,  and  her 
spirits  were  reviving,  when  she  perceived  herself  the  object  of 
attention  to  a  gentleman  in  a  very  elegant  cabriolet,  which  was 
proceeding  at  a  pace  a  very  little  quicker  than  her  own,  close 
to  the  pavement. 

Blushing  at  the  observation  she  had  attracted,  she  drew  her 
veil  close  over  her  face,  and  turned  down  another  street ;  in 
the  hope  of  avoiding  a  gaze  which,  even  in  the  short  moment 
that  she  had  seen  it,  she  could  not  but  perceive  was  intently 
fixed  upon  herself. 

It  was  in  vain,  however,  that  she  turned  down  street  after 
street,  the  eternal  cabriolet  seemed  to  be  every  where,  and  to 
cross  her  at  every  movement ;  nor  could  she  fail,  now  and  then, 
to  meet  the  glance  of  the  driver,  who  distressed  her  by  the 
freedom  of  his  evident  admiration.  Perceiving  that  he  was 
determined  to  follow  her,  and  dreading  lest  he  might  discover 
her  residence  ;  in  attempting  to  mislead  him  she  bewildered 
herself,  and,  becoming  confused,  she  found  herself  unex- 
pectedly at  the  entrance  to  the  Park,  when  she  imagined  herself 
far  distant  from  it.  The  Park,  however,  presented  a  refuge 
from  what  she  now  began  to  deem  actual  persecution,  and  she 
entered  it  at  Harrington  gate.  To  her  surprise,  however,  the 
carriage  also  passed  into  the  Park,  thus  designating  the  elevated 
rank  of  the  driver.  '' 

As  she  crossed  the  avenues,  he  jumped  out  of  his  cabriolet 
and  followed  her  on  foot.  Twice  he  attempted  to  address  her, 
and  twice  was  he  repressed,  with  a  dignity  which  awed  even 
his  assurance  into  respect.  A  nearer  view  of  the  face  which 
had  attracted  him  at  a  distance  ;  and  the  novelty  of  the  intrinsic 
modesty  with  which  she  repelled  his  attempt  to  address  her, 
seemed  only  to  add  strength  to  his  determination  to  discover 
who  she  was  ;  but,  fearing  her  resolution  never  to  take  the  di- 
rection of  her  own  residence  while  he  continued  his  pursuit, 
he  became  angry  with  himself  that  he  had  not  relinquished  the 
task  of  the  discovery  to  his  servant  whom  he  had  left  in  charge 
of  his  cabriolet ;  and,  fearing  to  lose  all  chance  of  knowing 
where  his  incognita  lived,  he  was  looking  anxiously  out  for 
some  acquaintance,  to  whom  he  might  depute  this  honourable 
office. 

In  the  mean  time,  however,  he  did  not  relax  in  his  endeavours 
to  change  her  determination  ;  till,  roused  at  last  into  an  exhi- 
bition of  indignation,  she  exclaimed — 

"  Sir,  your  perseverance  becomes  insulting." 
15* 


174  TUE   OXOMAKS. 

"  Let  that  perseverance  plead  for  me,"  retorted  her  indefa- 
tigable persecutor. 

Finding  ail  attempts  to  get  rid  of  his  intrusion  vain,  she  sud- 
denly siojtped,  and  assuming  as  much  dignity  as  her  agitation 
would  |)erniit,  she  said  calmly — 

"  Tell  me,  sir,  is  there  any  thing  in  my  appearance  ;  was 
there  any  thing  in  my  manners,  to  authorize  this  intrusion  ? 
or  to  induce  you  tiius  to  follow  me,  when  you  perceive  your 
attentions  to  be  oliensive  ?'" 

"  So  Air  from  it,"  replied  the  unabashed  intruder,  "  it  was  the 
perfect  modesty  of  your  demeanour,  added  to  an  appearance 
of  grief,  which  I  thought  perhaps  I  might  alleviate,  that  at- 
tracted my  notice." 

'  You  appear,  sir,"  said  Mrs.  Langley,  still  retaining  her 
composure,  "  to  be  a  gentleman  ;  and  yet  own,  that  the  very 
circumstances,  which  ought  to  have  protected  me  from  your 
addresses,  are  the  very  reasons  you  allege  for  insulting  me. 
Let  that  modesty  you  pretend  to  admire,  sir,  be  the  best  as- 
surance of  the  uselessness  of  solicitation  ;  and  let  me  pass 
on.  I  entreat — nay,  sir,  I  insist  on  the  free  liberty  of  passing 
unfollowed  and  without  molestation  ;"  and,  seeing  him  still 
determined  to  persevere,  she  added,  "  otherwise  you  will 
compel  me  to  appeal  to  the  first  stranger  I  meet,  for  protection 
against  your  insults." 

Mrs.  Langley's  agitation  had  increased  during  this  appeal  j 
and  the  last  words  were  uttered  in  so  loud  a  tone  of  voice, 
that  the  words  "  insults,"  and  '•  protection,"  awoke  Langley 
from  the  day-dream  which  he  was  indulging  on  one  of  the 
benches  near  the  spot  on  which  this  conversation  had  taken  place. 
Too  short-sighted  to  distinguish  the  parties  by  whom  his  at- 
tention had  been  attracted,  he  turned  towards  the  spot,  ex- 
claiming, "  Eh,  who  calls  for  protection  ?" 

Langley  was  recognized  in  a  moment  by  both  parties  ;  and 
Mrs.  Langley,  dreading  a  thousand  disagreeable  circum- 
stances in  the  event  of  the  recognition  being  mutual,  t"irned 
short  round,  and  walked  swiftly  away  in  an  opposite  direction. 
''Protection!  Nonsense!  Laniriey,"  exclaimed  Orville, 
he  it  was  who  had  thus  persecuted  Mrs.  Langley.  "•  You 
have  spoiled  the  prettiest  tete-a-tete  in  the  world,  and  have  ac- 
tually friiihtened  away  the  prettiest  woman  I  haveseen  these  si.\ 
months." 

"  I  spoil  a  tete-6-tete,"  stammered   Langley,  who  saw  his 
hopes  fading  in  the  idea  of  ofi'cnding  Lord  Orville. 

"  Yes,  and  the  only  reparation  you  can  make  me,  is  to  undo 


THE    OXOMAKS.  175 

the  mischief  you  have  occasioned,  by  following  that  little  wo- 
man in  the  blue  pelisse  and  cottage-bonnet,  and  discovering 
her  residence." 

"  1 — my — Lord  ;  I  am  so  short-sighted." 

"jNot  a  word,  or  you  will  miss  her — and  I  would  not  lose 
her  for  a  thousand.  Nay  fly,  my  dear  Langley,  and  when  you 
bring  me  the  intelligence  of  her  residence  1  shall  have  news 

for  you   from  his  Grace  of ."     And  so  saying,  without 

waiting  for  a  reply,  Lord  Orville  jumped  into  his  cabriolet, 
whlie  Langley,  confused,  and  scarcely  knowing  what  he  was 
doing,  mechanically  walked  on  in  the  direction  pointed  out  by 
Orville. 

"  What  can  he  take  me  for,"  thought  Langley,  almost  aloud, 
as  an  indignant  feeling  at  the  unworthiness  of  his  employment 
arose  in  his  mind.  "  1  follow  a  woman  for  him  !  A  good 
appointment  may  be  a  very  good  thing,  but  I  should  not  enjoy 
the  best  place  in  the  world  if  I  had  to  reflect  on  having  per- 
formed one  dirty  action  to  procure  it."  Such  were  the  re- 
flections which  arose  in  his  mind  ;  yet  still  he  walked  on,  in 
the  direction  which  Mrs.  Langley  had  taken,  though  his  in- 
firmity did  not  permit  him  to  distinguish  the  object  of  his  pur- 
suit. He  saw  he  might  ofiend  Lord  Orville,  and  crush  the 
hopes  upon  which  he  had  been  building.  He  did  not  like  thus 
to  kick  his  basket  of  eggs  into  the  street  at  once,  and  mar  the 
fortune  he  had  been  enjoying  in  anticipation  ;  neither  did  he 
like  the  positive  manner,  in  which  he  liad  been  despatched  on 
his  unworthy  errand  by  Lord  Orville,  who  seemed  to  expect 
that  his  patronage  was  to  be  purchased  by  any  services  which 
he  might  require,  from  those  who  enjoyed  it.  Yet  how  to 
extricate  himself  from  this  dilemma  ?  At  this  moment  he  was 
joined  by  Mr.  Versatile  Tadpole. 

Tadpole  was  a  young  man  of  obscure  birth,  with  means  suf- 
ficient to  enal)lehim  to  live  without  the  drudgery  of  office  or 
business.  His  sole  ambition  in  life  was  to  be  thought  inti- 
mate with  persons  of  fashion.  He  was  the  veriest  lord-hunter 
in  the  creation  ;  and  would  do  any  thing,  however  mean  or 
contemptible,  to  curry  favour  with  a  Countess,  or  to  secure  a 
nod  at  the  Opera  from  a  Peer.  By  these  mrans,  he  contrived 
to  linger  in  the  outskirts  of  fashionable  society  ;  tolerated,  in 
some  houses  from  the  use  they  made  of  him,  and,  getting  into 
others,  under  the  protecting  wing  of  some  old  college  ac- 
quaintance, or  of  some  man  of  fashion  who  had  condescended 
to  make  him  his  jackal.  He  knew  the  whole  peerage  by  sight ; 
could  discover  the  coronet  on  a  carriage  in  the  densest  fog  in 


176  THE    OXONIANS. 

November ;  had  made  himself  acquainted  with  the  topograplv 
ical  situation  of  every  person's  opera  box,  and  would  have 
made  the  best  walking  Court  Guide  in  the  world  ;  since,  if  he 
did  not  claim  acquaintance  with  the  inmates,  he  knew  the 
knocker  and  brass  plate  on  the  door  of  every  fashionable  man- 
sion in  town. 

In  this  pursuit.  Tadpole  had  cut  his  connection  with  the 
class  of  society  in  which  he  was  born  ;  witjiout  having  been 
able  to  graft  himself  upon  that  to  which  he  aspired  ;  so  that 
he  was  laughed  at  by  tlie  sensible  persons  of  the  one,  and  de- 
spised by  nearly  the  whole  of  the  other  ;  who  seldom  conde- 
scended to  notice  him,  unless  it  was  to  borrow  his  money,  or 
send  him  on  an  errand.  Indeed,  Tadpole  might  not  unaptly 
have  been  designated  the  "  errand  boy"  of  fashion.  He  had 
been  uniformly  black-balled  at  every  club  in  London  in  which 
he  could  prevail  upon  any  proposer  and  secon(!er  to  inscribe 
his  name  among  the  candidates  ;  but  yet  he  persisted  in  his 
pursuit,  and  the  labour  of  a  whole  morning's  walk  or  ride  in 
the  Park,  was  amply  repaid  by  a  nod  from  any  one  of  the 
heads  in  the  window  at  White's,  or  a  "  How  d'  ye  do.  Tad- 
pole ?"  from  the  supercilious  voice  of  some  galloping  ex- 
quisite in  the  Park. 

Langley's  loss  of  fortune  had  at  first  lowered  him  consi- 
derably in  the  eyes  of  Mr.  Tadpole  ;  but,  when  he  saw  him 
still  on  the  same  familiar  terms  with  his  former  associates,  and 
still  read  his  name  in  the  morning  papers  among  the  fash- 
ionables who  attended  such  and  such  an  assembly,  his  whole 
importance  was  restored. 

Langley,  who  knew  Tadpole's  character  and  failings,  looked 
upon  the  present  rencounter  as  a  most  fortunate  circumstance. 
Here  was  a  way  to  escape  from  a  disagreeable  office,  and 
yet  run  no  risk  of  offending  his  patron.  Telling  Tadpole, 
therefore,  the  story — pointing  out  the  obligation  Lord  Orville 
would  be  under  to  him — complaining  of  his  own  want  of 
vision,  as  incapacitating  himself,  for  performing  the  service  ; 
he  secured  in  a  moment  a  most  willing  proxy  ;  to  whom 
the  idea  of  obliging  a  lord  would  have  rendered  a  much  more 
degrading  task  palatable. 

"  But  shall  I  convey  the  intelligence  myself  to  Orville 
House  ?"  asked  Tadpole,  eagerly. 

"  Certainly,"  replied  Langley. 

"  You  won't  forestall  me  ?" 

**  No,  no  !  but  you  will  certainly  miss  her,"  said  Langley. 

*'  Blue  pelisse  and  cottage  bonnet,  you  say  ?" 


THE   OXONIANS.  177 

"  Yes,  yes !"  and  away  flew  Tadpole  in  the  direction  Mrs. 
Langley  had  taken  ;  while  Langley,  intending  the  infirmity  of 
his  sight  to  form  an  apology  to  Orville  ;  like  many  others, 
blinded  himself  into  a  species  of  consolation  at  doing  his  dirty 
work  by  deputy. 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

LOVERS. 

"Why,  thank  her  then,  not  weep,  or  moan  { 

Let  others  guard  their  careless  heart, 
And  praise  the  day  that  thus  made  known 
The  faithless  hold  on  woman's  art. 

HARRiNeroN. 

Scarcely  any  situation  can  be  Imagined  more  painful  than 
that  of  poor  Forrester.  Loving  Emily  with  his  whole  soul, 
conscious  that  none  around  her  appreciated  her  value,  nor 
bore  her  the  same  degree  of  real  affection  as  himself ;  he  was 
yet  condemned  to  see  her  perpetually  sub^'ect  to  the  attention 
of  others,  and  to  follow  her  from  party  to' party,  without  being 
able  to  gain  one  confidential  communication.  It  was  in  vain 
that  he  watched  for  an  opportunity  ;  if  chance  presented  one, 
it  was  sure  to  be  disappointed  by  some  intrusion  on  the  part 
of  one  or  the  other  of  the  Orville  family. 

He  saw  too,  with  fear,  the  change  in  her  habits — mourned 
over  the  dissipation  of  the  life  she  led — and  dreaded  lest  the 
effect  of  the  examples  by  which  she  was  surrounded,  should 
influence  her  future  existence.  Knowing,  as  he  had  done,  the 
excellence  of  her  heart  and  principles,  and  sensible  of  the  foun- 
dation upon  which  those  principles  were  built,  he  felt  secure 
that  they  could  never  be  eradicated.  Yet  he  trembled  to  think 
of  the  consequences  of  such  a  perpetual  round  of  gayety  upon 
a  heart  and  mind  so  young ;  he  dreaded  its  unfitting  her  for 
a  more  domestic  life,  and  that  the  excitement  under  which  she 
now  lived  might  by  long  continuance  become  necessary  to  her 
existence. 

It  was  impossible,  however,  for  Forrester  to  go  on  long 
without  perceiving  the  change  in  Emily's  manner  towards  him- 
self.    At  first,  he  attributed  it  to  the  natural  objection  that 


178  THE    OXONIANS. 

every  woman  of  delicacy  feels  towards  making  the  sentiments 
or  attentions  of  any  man  public  ;  but  at  length  her  coldness, 
and  the  pleasure  she  seemed  to  enjoy  in  escaping  from  his  at- 
tentions to  those  of  Lord  Orville,  or,  indeed,  to  those  of  any 
other  of  the  gay  beings,  by  whom  she  was  now  perpetually 
surrounded,  almost  confirmed  his  worst  fears.  Open,  too,  as 
Orville  House  was  to  him  at  all  hours,  he  began  to  think  it 
strange,  that  she  herself  did  not  make  some  opportunity  for  him 
to  see  her  alone  ;  and,  at  length,  the  unpleasant  truth  forced 
itself  upon  his  observation,  that,  on  the  contrary,  she  herself 
sedulously  avoided  any  thing  like  confidential  communication. 
This  certainty  was  a  sad  blow  to  poor  Forrester  ;  it  deprived 
him  of  his  last  remaining  hope  ;  he  saw  all  the  prospects  he 
had  formed  fade  before  him  ;  and,  what  rendered  it  worse,  he 
saw  no  hope'that  this  destruction  of  his  happiness  would  ensure 
that  of  Emily.  Such  was  the  nature  of  his  love,  that,  could 
he  have  seen  any  reasonable  prospect  of  her  happiness  being 
increased  by  the  change,  he  would  have  tried  to  support  his 
disappointment  with  fortitude.  As  it  was,  he  gave  himself 
up  to  despair,  on  her  account  as  well  as  his  own. 

It  was  in  vain  he  called  in  the  aid  of  philosophy — in  vain 
he  appealed  to  reason— in  vain  exerted  all  his  common  sense  ; 
all  their  powers  faded  before  his  intense  feeling  :  and  Forrester 
became  as  great  a  victim  to  disappointed  love,  as  though  he 
had  not  possessed  a  grain  of  philosophy,  common  sense,  or 
reason. 

It  was  in  vain  he  argued,  that,  if  she  was  so  changed,  he 
ought  rather  to  rejoice,  instead  of  lament  that  she  was  not  to 
be  his  wife  ;  he  found  love  and  nature  stronger  than  all  argu- 
ments. He  could  not  follow  the  advice  of  the  old  English 
poet  in  the  "  Nugae  Antiquae,"  given  under  similar  circum- 
stances : 

•'  Give  o'er  thy  plaint,  the  danger's  o'er  ; 

She  might  have  poisoned  all  thy  life  ; 
Such  wayward  mind  had  bred  thee  more 

Of  sorrow  had  she  prov'd  thy  wife  :  ' 

Leave  her  to  meet  all  hapless  meed. 
And  bless  thyself  that  thou  art  freed." 

Forrester  would  have  sucked  in  the  poison  of  matrimony- 
have  endured  all  the  sorrow  of  making  Emily  his  wife  ;  and 
was  more  inclined  to  curse,  than  to  bless  the  freedom,  to  which 
this  dereliction  from  her  early  attachment  gave  him. 

Once  admitting  the  idea  of  a  change  in  her  sentiments,  it 


THE   OXONIANS.  179 

was  astonishing  how  many  proofs  of  the  truth  of  this  surmise 
forced  themselves  upon  his  mind.  Doubt  soon  grew  into  cer- 
tainty, and  he  determined  to  seek  an  interview  ;  throw  all  upon 
the  hazard  of  a  last  appeal  ;  and,  if  unsuccessful,  caution  her 
against  the  insidious  arts  of  Orville,  and  bid  her  farewell  for 
ever. 

An  opportunity  for  this  appeal  at  length  presented  itself, 
when  it  was  least  expected.  Entering  the  library  at  Orville 
House,  he  perceived  Emily  alone,  evidently  in  deep  thought. 
Once  or  twice  she  appeared  agitated  by  some  internal  emotion  : 
then,  sighing,  she  exclaimed  unconsciously,  "  i  almost  wish 
I  were  back  again  in  the  country  i"  forgetting  every  thing  but 
the  impulse  of  the  moment.  Forrester  approached  her  hastily, 
and  asked  : 

"  Can  such  a  wish  emanate  from  Miss  Emily's  heart  ?" 

Emily  started  at  the  sight  of  him  ;  looked  as  though  she 
wished  to  escape  ;  but,  perceiving  no  hope  of  avoiding  the  in- 
terview, she  merely  exclaimed,  "  Bless  me,  Mr.  Forrester  !" 

"  Mr.  Forrester  !  You  were  not  wont  to  be  so  formal !  it 
used  to  be  Forrester — or  Edward." 

''  Yes  !"  replied  Emily.  "  I  remember,  Mr.  Forrester,  to 
have  been  sufficiently  rude  to  have'  used  your  name  too  fa- 
miliarly." 

"  Nay,"  said  Forrester,  mournfully,  •'  Miss  Hartley  never 
could  be  rude  ;  and  the  delicacies  of  her  familiarity  rendered 
its  favour  so  great,  that  I  must  ever  regret  its  loss." 

"  Mr.  Forrester  chooses  to  be  complimentary,"  said  Emily, 
rather  satirically,  and  taking  up  the  tone  in  which  she  had  lat- 
terly often  spoken  of  Forrester. 

"  It  is  unfortunately  not  in  my  power  to  be  so,"  quietly  re- 
plied Forrester  :  •'  and  I  remember  the  time,  when  sincerity 
possessed  a  greater  influence  than  compliments,  over  your 
heart.  I  have  long  sought  this  opportunity  of  speaking  with 
you  alone  :  but,  of  late,  you  have  been  so  surrounded  by  an 
idolizing  multitude,  that  there  has  not  been  a  moment  to  spare 
to  him,  who  was  once  happy  enough  to  consider  his  society  as 
one  of  the  pleasures  of  your  former  life." 

*'  Why,  I  begin  to  find,"  said  Emily,  "that  my  former  life, 
a?  you  call  it,  was  no  life  at  all — that  it  was  a  mere  dream." 

"  It  is  but  too  true,"  replied  Forrester  ;  "  and  I  am  at  length 
awakened  to  the  dreadful  certainty  that  it  was  indeed  some  il- 
lusion of  the  brain." 

"You  are  quite  metaphorical,  Mr.  Forrester,"  coldly  observed 
Emily,  who  assumed  an  indifference  she  was  far  from  feeling, 


180  TUB  oxONiAdre. 

hopins;  that  it  might  the  sooner  end  an  interview  which  was 
painful  to  both. 

"Oh  Emily,  Emily!"  exclaimed  Forrester,  "  this  coldness, 
this  indifference  destroys  me.  But  I  come  not  to  complain — 
I  know  my  doom — yet  hear  me — hear  me,  Emily,  if  it  be  only 
for  the  last  time." 

"  I  am  all  attention,  Mr.  Forrester." 

"  Alas!  Miss  Hartley — I  had  much— much  to  say;  and 
thought  that  I  had  summoned  sufficient  courage,  as  well  as 
sufficiently  tranquillized  my  feelings,  to  have  iziven  utterance 
to  my  sentiments,  without  discovering  the  bursting  agonies  of 
a  disappointed  heart." 

"Agonies!"  exclaimed  Emily.  "The  prudent  Mr.  For- 
rester talk  of  agonies?" 

j  "  Ay,  and  feel  them  too — more,  perhaps,  than  those  who 
make  a  superior  display  of  their  sentiments,"  replied  Forrester ; 
"  but  no  matter — I  am  but  too  sensible  of  the  difl^erence  you 
must  find  in  my  plain,  and  perhaps  homely  expressions  of  affec- 
tion, when  compared  with  the  elegance  of  those  compliments 
which  are  now  crowding  daily  upon  your  ear.  I  perceive,  too, 
how  my  plain  manners  must  sink  in  your  estimation,  when  put 
in  competition  with  those  of  a  fashionable  man — I  feel  all  this 
— deeply,  severely  feel  it — and  deeply  do  I  regret  the  folly  that 
led  me  to  hope  so  humble  a  being  as  myself  could  ever  retain 
an  interest  in  the  heart  of  one,  so  capable  of  attracting  to  her 
feet  even  the  most  brilliant  of  these  competitors." 

Emily  felt  more  than  she  dared  acknowledge,  even  to  her- 
self; and  in  a  softened  tone,  replied,  "  Indeed,  Mr.  Forrester, 
these  circumstances  exist  only  in  your  own  imagination." 

"  No,  no,"  said  Forrester,  mournfully  ;  "  they  exist  in  sad 
reality.  I  am  quite  aware  of  it — I  feel  my  inferiority — I  can- 
not dress  up  my  sentiments  in  that  glowing  language  which 
gives  plausibility  to  sophistry,  and  which  would  render  truth 
irresistible." 

"  Nay,  nay,"  said  Emily,  in  a  still  softer  voice  ;  such  virtues 
and  good  sense  as  Mr.  Forrester  possesses,  will  always  ensure 
the  esteem  they  merit,  would  he  but  exert  them  in  a  direction 
where  they  could  be  properly  appreciated." 

"  There  is  butonedirection.  Miss  Hartley,"  replied  Forrester, 
"  in  which  I  ever  wished  the  very  few  qualifications  I  possess, 
to  gain  an  ascendancy — but  one  object  in  the  world,  to  whom 
I  can  truly  and  sincerely  devote  them.  That  object  is  lost  to 
me  ;  and  all  my  hopes  of  happiness  are  blasted  for  ever." 


THE   OXONIANS.  181 

*'  Nay,  nay,  Mr.  Forrester,"  exclaimed  Emily,  in  a  tone 
almost  of  tenderness — 

"  Hold  !"  interrupted  Forrester  ;  "  revive  not  the  glimpse 
of  a  hope,  which  I  know  must  be  immediately  extinguished. 
I  see  it  in  your  altered  manners — I  read  it  in  your  frigid 
look — -I  understand  and  feel  it,  from  a  thousand  circumstances 
that  speak  the  truth  of  my  surmises.  Oh,  Emily !  when  memory 
paints  thee  as  thou  once  wert — kind — obliging — may  I  say  af- 
fectionate ? — When  imagination  pictures  the  smile  with  wliich 
you  greeted  me  in  the  morning  ;  the  gentle  sigh  wliich  the 
evening  witnessed  at  our  parting — when  I  retrace  the  circum- 
stances of  that  evening,  when  1  first  dared  to  whisper  in  your 
ear  a  feeling  warmer  than  that  of  fraternal  love — it  is  then, 
Emily,  that  in  these  retrospections,  I  experience  sensations 
nearly  allied  to  plirensy — "  and  Forrester,  betrayed  by  his 
feelings  out  of  his  usually  calm  exterior,  actually  sobbed  with 
agony. 

Emily,  overcome  by  her  own  feelings,  and  giving  way  to  a 
momentary  burst  of  tenderness,  exclaimed,  "  Oh  Edward  ! 
dear  Edward  !  spare  me  !  spare  me  ! — " 

"  Edward  !  dear  Edward !"  repeated  Forrester,  with  delight ; 
"  and  do  I  hear  that  name  again  from  the  lips  oC  Emily  ?  Oh 
repeat  it,  and  I  am  your  slave  for  ever." 

"  Oh  Edward  !— I  know — I  feel — I  am  wrong,"  said 
Emily. 

"  Wrong ! — impossible.  Nothing  can  be  wrong  when  Emily's 
heart  and  understanding  direct  her  actions." 

"  Pardon  me  the  torture  I  have  given  to  a  sensible  heart — 
a  heart  of  which  I  feel  myself  unworthy  ;  and  the  happiness 
of  which  I  can  never  form — " 

"  What  do  I  hear  ?  what  says  my  EmJ'y  ?"  exclaimed  For- 
rester. 

"  In  the  country,"  pursued  Emily,  "  my  natural  disposition 
was  repressed.  The  world,  unhappily  for  me,  has  shown  me 
what  I  am — our  dispositions,  Forrester,  are  dissimilar." 

"  No,  no,"  interrupted  Forrester.  "  In  the  country,  my 
Emily  was  herself:  here  only,  is  she  the  creature  of  circum- 
stance. Can  you  remember,  in  anticipating  our  future  lives, 
how  exactly  our  sentiments  accorded  ?  Do  you  remember  in 
our  studies,  how  perfectly  our  opinions  coincided  ?  Can  you 
recollect  our  evening  walks  and  conversations,  and  say  that  our 
hearts  are  dissimilar  ?  True,  I  cannot  display  a  blaze  of  wit  that 
excites  the  admiration  of  my  auditors — I  have  no  personal  ac- 
■  complishments  to  dazzle  the  beholders,  and  make  my  wife  the 

Vol.  I.— 16 


182  THE   OXONIANS. 

envy  of  her  neighbours — I  cannot  dress  up  my  affection  in  the 
fastidious  terms  of  modern  sentiment  ;  but  J  can  profler  you 
the  unalterable  love  of  a  manly  heart,  that  will  devote  itself 
to  your  happiness  ;  and,  that  happiness  accomplished,  will  be 
the  greatest  I  can  possess." 

During  this  passionate  appeal,  rendered  more  forcible  by  the 
general  quietude  of  the  character  of  him  by  whom  it  was 
made,  Emily  had  been  surprised  by  the  return  of  so  much  of 
her  former  tenderness  for  Forrester.  Her  heart  seemed  to 
have  wandered  back  into  the  track  it  had  so  grievously  de- 
serted. Former  scenes  rushed  upon  her  remembrance  ;  for- 
mer feelings  forced  themselves  upon  iier  mind  ;  and,  in  a  voice, 
in  which  she  seemed  to  resign  herself  to  their  influence,  she 
exclaimed  : 

"  Oh  Forrester,  I  know  the  goodness  of  your  heart ;  I  feel 
the  strength  of  its  affection  ;  I  remember  well  our  early  life, 
and  remember  it  with  regret,  even  amid — "  Emily  was  gradually 
giving  way  to  her  feelings.  Forrester  seemed  to  hang  upon 
every  word  she  uttered  ;  her  former  affections  and  sentiments 
were  evidently  returning  with  their  full  force,  and  the  counte- 
nance of  Forrester  was  once  more  glowing  with  hope  ; — 
when  Lord  Orville  suddenly  entered  the  apartment,  and  started 
with  surprise  at  seeing  Emily  and  Forrester  together.  The 
moment  Emily  saw  him,  she  became  confused,  she  repeated 
the  words  "  even  amid,  even  amid/'  once  or  twice,  and  then, 
shrinking  from  Orville's  glance,  she  finished  by  saying,  "  Ah, 
you  here,  my  Lord  ?" 

Forrester  started,  for  so  intent  was  he  on  Emily's  words, 
that  he  had  not  perceived  Orville's  entrance.  His  counte- 
nance assumed  its  former  expression  of  despair,  and  he  inter- 
nally exclaimed,  "  Il«;  here  !  then  I  am  lost." 

"  You  seem  surprised  at  my  presence,  Miss  Hartley,"  said 
Lord  Orville,  advancing  towards  them.  '*  But,  can  you  won- 
der, that  the  attraction  which  is  suthciently  powerful  to  in- 
fluence the  grave,  the  wise,  the  prudent  Edward  Forrester, 
should  draw  within  its  vortex,  the  weak  and  volatile,  though 
devoted  Orville." 

*'  You  honour  me  too  much,"  replied  Forrester,  endeavour- 
ing to  regain  some  degree  of  composure,  "  by  including  one 
of  such  humble  pretensions,  with  an  individual,  whose  sphere 
of  attraction  is  so  extended  as  your  Lordship's." 

"  Why,  Miss  Hartley,"  exclaimed  Lord  Orville,  in  a  tone  of 
affected  surprise,  "  with  what  wand  have  you  touched  For- 
rester ?  I  protest,  Chesterfield  himself  could  never  have 
dressed  up  a  compliment  in  better  style  ;  and,  as  we  generally 


THE   OXOKIANS.  183 

value  things  by  their  scarcity,  more  than  from  their  intrinsic 
worth,  why,  I  think  I  must  inscribe  a  compliment  from  For- 
rester as  a  rarity  in  my  commonplace  book." 

'*  I  believe,  my  Lord,"  said  Emily,  trying  to  rally  herself, 
and  to  appear  unconcerned,  "  that  compliments  in  general  de- 
serve  a  commonplace  reception." 

Forrester  had  in  vain  struggled  to  resume  his  composure, 
and  finding  it  utterly  impossible  to  reduce  the  tone  of  his  feel- 
ings so  suddenly,  he  hastily  took  his  leave ;  though  not  without 
betraying  his  agitation,  and  almost  rushing  out  of  the  room. 
Emily  herself  could  not  quite  conquer  her  feelings,  though 
afraid  of  betraying  them  before  Lord  Orville,  whose  eye  was 
fixed  upon  her  varying  countenance." 

"  You  seem  agitated.  Miss  Hartley,"  observed  he  ;  then,  in 
a  bantering  tone,  he  proceeded :  "  What,  I  dare  swear,  Forrester 
has  been  recalling  to  your  memory  those  halcyon  days,  when, 
like  shepherds  and  shepherdesses  of  Arcadia,  you  wandered 
through  dasied  meadows  and  shady  groves.  I  can  easily  ima- 
gine Forrester  to  play  a  sighing  shepherd  remarkably  well,  and 
to  prove  an  excellent  lover,  for  the  country.  I  can  readily  be- 
lieve now,  that  every  tree  in  the  neighbourhood  has  bled  with 
the  characters  of  your  name,  which  has  regularly  undergone 
a  "  course  of  bark,"  as  Hood  punningly  calls  it.  I  suppose 
the  echoes  have  forgotten  to  respond  to  any  other  name  than 
that  of  Emily  ;  and  that  the  murmuring  streams  have  rolled 
their  limpid  waves  but  as  an  accompaniment  to  sapphic  lays, 
chaunted  in  a  voice,  so  musical  and  melancholy,  that  nightin- 
gales have  left  their  native  groves,  and  joined  chorus." 

"  A  truce,  a  truce,  my  Lord,"  said  Emily,  with  a  languid 
smile  ;  while  she  inwardly  shrunk  from  Orville's  badinage  ; — 
who  at  once  relinquishing  his  lighter  tones,  continued  more 
earnestly  : 

"  And  was  such  a  mind  and  form  as  Miss  Hartley's  created 
only  to  be  seen  and  enjoyed  by  rustics  and  nightingales  ? 
Was  she  blest  with  talents,  that  make  her  the  delight  of  the 
gayest  circles,  only  to  display  them  where  they  can  never  be 
properly  appreciated  ?  or  was  the  poignancy  of  her  wit,  given 
her  but  to  satirize  a  few  dowdy  country  neighbours  ;  and  fill 
up  the  scandalous  chronicle  of  a  country  tea-table  ?  No,  no, 
I  will  not  do  the  world  so  much  injustice  as  to  place  so  fair  a 
flower  among  those,  which  were  born 

'  To  blush  unseen 

And  waste  their  sweetness  on  the  desert  air.' " 


184  THE    OXONIANS. 

"  Oh,  my  Lord,  you  overpower  me,"  exclaimed  Emily,  in- 
deed you  do.  The  country,  I  feel,  was  my  proper  sphere.  I 
possess  none  of  those  elegant  arts  of  society." 

"  Where  nature  has  done  so  much,"  interrupted  Lord  Or- 
villc,  "  art  is  but  an  intruder  ;  a  little  light  reading  under  my 
direction,  will  soon  brush. off  the  prejudices  of  your  country 
})receptress  ;  who,  unused  to  the  world,  is  insensible  to  the 
burden  which  such  sentiments  are  in  society." 

"  Yes,  my  Lord,  but  these  sentiments  are  for  the  well-being 
of  society,"  said  Emily. 

"So,  those  who  are  prejudiced  by  them  will  tell  you,"  re- 
plied Lord  Orville.  "  So,  the  ill-natured  cynic  lays  down  the 
law  ;  while  the  cold  philosopher,  devoid  of  passion  and  sen- 
sibility himself,  preaches  from  the  narrow  precincts  of  his  tub 
against  their  indulgence  in  others,  with  the  calmness  of  a  stoic  ; 
and  calculates  upon  success,  as  a  cabinet  minister  at  home 
reckons  upon  an  easy  victory  abroad  ;  because  he  does  not  see 
the  dangers  and  difficulties  of  the  battle.  The  gods  gave  us 
our  passions  ;  men  have  had  the  presumption  to  impose  cus- 
toms which  would  violate  the  first  principles  of  our  nature. — 
Which  ought  we  to  obey  ?  Here,"  continued  he,  taking  up 
an  open  volume,  "  see  what  Pope  says  on  the  master  passion 
of  our  natures  : 

'  Love,  free  as  air,  at  sight  of  human  ties 
Spreads^his  light  wings '  " 

"  Oh,  my  Lord,  forbear  your  arguments,  lest  you  should 
dazzle  me  by  their  brilliancy,  into  a  premature  belief  of  their 
trudi." 

Lord  Orville  saw  the  power  he  possessed,  at  least  over  her 
imagination,  if  he  had  yet  attained  none  over  her  heart  or 
judgment  ;  and,  uncertain  yet  in  his  own  mind,  as  to  his  inten- 
tions, he  pursued  his  advantage  recklessly,  without  giving  it  a 
thought,  that  if  he  ultimately  fell  into  the  plans  of  his  mother, 
he  was  undermining  the  principles  of  his  future  wife.  Orville, 
liowever,  derived  a  pleasure  in  overturning  established  opinions, 
and  in  the  subversion  of  received  rules,  even  when  he  had  no 
end  to  accomplish.  There  was  a  kind  of  recklessness  in  his 
philosophy,  and  of  carelessness,  with  which  he  threw  his  pow- 
ers of  ridicule,  even  into  the  most  sacred  subjects,  that  de- 
lighted him,  because  it  astonished  others  :  and,  with  regard  to 
women,  he  derived  a  selfish  pleasure  from  winning  aflections 
vhich  he  had  no  intention  of  returning,  and  by  which  he  had 


\ 


THE   OXOMANS.  186 

no  hope  of  profiting.  He  could  not,  however,  behold  one  so 
lovely  and  innocent  as  the  girl  who  stood  before  him,  without 
feeling  something  more  than  he  had  for  most  women;  and  ideas, 
beyond  mere  v.ords,  for  a  moment  crossed  his  mind  as  he  pur- 
sued his  theme. 

"  Nay,  Miss  Hartley,  I  wish  to  owe  your  conversion  to  our 
modern  tenets  to  conviction  alone,  and,  where  can  you  find 
greater  conviction,  than  in  your  own  feelings.  Suppose  that 
you,  all  trembling  sensibility  as  you  are,  should  find  a  conge- 
nial sou! ;  and,  that  soul,  inspired  by  affection,  by  passion, 
should  pour  forth  its  raptures  at  your  feet ;  should  seize  your 
trembling  hand  thus  and  lay  it  to  a  heart  whose  pulsations  beat 
for  you  alone" — and  here,  having  taken  Emily  by  the  hand,  he 
appeared  to  be  the  impassioned  lover  he  represented,  when  the 
door  vras  suddenly  opened,  and,  before  either  of  them  were 
aware  of  his  presence,  the  Admiral  stood  before  them. 

Emily  started,  blushed,  and  was  almost  overcome  by  her 
emotion. 

The  Admiral  was  as  much  startled  as  herself;  and  ex- 
claiming, "Avast  there,"  and,  stuttering  out  an  excuse  about 
sorrow  and  interruption,  was  retiring,  when  Lord  Orville  open- 
ing his  box,  coolly  said  : 

"  Oh  !  not  at  all.  Admiral ;  I  was  only  giving  Miss  Hartley 
some  idea  of  natural  philosophy." 

"  Experimental  philosophy,  you  mean,"  said  the  Admiral, 
chuckling  at  his  own  joke  ;  and  then,  recollecting  his  informa- 
tion, that  an  attachment  existed  between  Emily  and  Forrester, 
he  executed  a  loud  whistle,  and  continued  :  "  But,  Miss  Emily, 
since  the  wind  lays  in  this  quarter — " 

"  For  heaven's  sake,  sir,"  interrupted  Emily,  almost  over- 
come by  her  agitation.  But  the  Admiral  was  on  his  usual 
tack  of  sincerity,  and  was  not  to  be  stopped  ;  and  continued : 

"  No,  no,  we  must  not  have  Forrester  deceived  any  longer. 
He  is  a  worthy  fellow  ;  though  he  is,  perhaps,  alittle  too  moral 
and  sentimental." 

Emily  was  overcome  with  confusion  at  this  plain  sailing 
speech  of  the  Admiral  ;  and  was  attempting  some  stammer- 
ing explanation,  when  Mr.  Tadpole  was  announced  :  who, 
scarcely  noticing  Emily  or  the  Admiral,  in  his  haste  to  please 
Lord  Orville,  drew  him  aside,  and  in  a  half  whisper,  said, 

"  Well,  my  Lord,  I  followed  her  home."  Lord  Orville  looked 
surprised. 

'*  Oh,  Langley,  you  know,  told  me — blue  pelisse,  cottage 
bonnet — "  and  shaking  his  head  significantly,  he  proceeded  ; 

16* 


186  THE    OXO>IAKS. 

"  no  fear  from  me.  It  was  in  vain  she  twitched  round  the 
corners,  and  bobbed  up  the  alleys — determined  to  oblige  your 

Lordship,  I  traced  her  to  a  house  in "  here  his  whispering 

became  very  low  ;  "  and,  as  I  came  away,  who  should  I  see 
enter,  but  Forrester — there's  a  sly  dog  for  you  !" 

Lord  Orville  now  comprehended,  that  Mr.  Tadpole  had  per- 
formed the  office  which  he  had  required  at  the  hands  of  Lang- 
ley  ;  though  how  he  became  so  commissioned,  he  was  at  a  loss 
to  conceive  ;  but  was  delighted,  by  any  means,  to  learn  intelli- 
gence cf  his  incognita  of  the  morning. 

Emily,  who  could  not  help  hearing  some  part  of  what  Mr. 
Tadpole  said,  started  with  a  feeling  almost  akin  to  jealousy, 
as,  from  the  little  she  gathered,  she  found  the  communication 
related  to  some  female  ;  and  she  inwardly  asked  herself,  "Can 
he  deceive  me  ?" 

The  Admiral,  who  did  not  at  all  like  the  unceremonious 
manner  in  which  he  had  been  treated  by  the  intruder ;  and 
catching,  here  and  there,  a  word  or  two  of  the  communication, 
without  hearing  the  truth,  sharply  exclaimed  : 

"  Eh,  what's  that  about  twitching  and  bobbing,  and  For- 
rester ?" 

"  Oh,  nothing,  Admiral,"  coolly  answered  Lord  Orville  ; 
"  but  that  Tadpole  was  telling  me  that  Forrester — didn't  you 
say  Forrester ?" 

"  Oh  yes,  Forrester,"  replied  the  civil  Mr.  Tadpole,  delighted 
at  the  familiar  manner  in  which  Lord  Orville  had  mentioned 
his  name. 

"  That  Foirester  desired  him  to  follow  some  pretty  woman 
home." 

"  Eh  ;  how,  my  Lord  ?"  cx'claimed  Tadpole  :  but  was  im- 
mediately silenced  by  a  look  from  Orville,  who  proceeded  : 

"  And  he  says  he  left  Forrester  there  just  now  :  was  not 
that  it.  Tadpole  ?" 

"  Oh  yes  ;  just  so  ;  exactly  so  ;  just  as  your  Lordship  says  ; 
your  Lordship  is  always  in  the  right ;"  hastily  said  Tadpole, 
without  knowing  what  he  was  asserting,  only  that  he  was 
agreeing  with  a  Lord. 

"What!"  exclaimed  the  Admiral,  "Forrester,  a  gay  de- 
ceiver ?  the  specious  fellow — the  demure  scoundrel ;  he,  of  all 
people,  to  be  running  riot !" 

Emily  had  a  mixed  feeling  at  intelligence  so  unexpected ; 
at  this  instant  it  would  have  pained  her  more  to  have  disco- 
vered that  Orville  had  deceived  her,  than  to  think  that  Forres- 
ter had  been  guilty  of  any  dereliction  ;  and,  almost  wanting 


TUE    OXOMAKS.  187 

an  excuse  for  her  own  versatility,  slie  experienced  something 
like  a  pleasure  in  finding  that  apology  for  her  own  conduct  in 
Forrester's  change,  which  would  have  been  denied  her  by  his 
constancy.  Happy,  at  any  rate,  to  escape  from  the  observa- 
tion of  the  Admiral,  she  quitted  the  room,  and  hurried  away 
to  Clara,  for  the  purpose  of  using  this  apology  for  the  varia- 
tion in  her  opinions  with  regard  to  Edward  Forrester. 

"D — n  the  fellow !  One  may  swear  at  deception,"  said 
the  Admiral.  Then  approaching  Lord  Orville,  ♦'  Orville,  my 
boy,  give  me  your  hand,  for  I  love  an  open-hearted  rake,  as 
much  as  I  despise  a  hypocritical  libertine." 

"  Ay,  Admiral,"  replied  Orville,  "you  see  it  is  not  always 
the  moral  outside  that  hides  the  best  heart." 

*'  But  ril  be  about  his  ears — I  wont  let  the  son  of  my  old 
friend  turn  out  a  scoundrel  without  telling  him  of  it."  And 
away  bounced  the  Admiral  in  search  of  Forrester. 

Mr.  Tadpole,  who  had  stood  silent  during  the  latter  part  of 
this  scene,^taken  quite  by  surprise,  looked  at  Orville  for  an  ex- 
planation. 

"  Nothing  but  a  hoax.  Tadpole,  a  mere  hoax,  a  joke  upon 
"Forrester's  morality,"  said  Orville.  "  But  come,  my  dear 
fellow,  we  will  take  a  stroll,  and  you  shall  tell  me  all  the  parti- 
culars." And  away  they  Avent,  the  civil  Mr.  Tadpole  well  re- 
warded for  the  dirtiest  action  of  which  a  man  can  be  guilty, 
by  walking  down  St.  James's  Street,  arm  in  arm,  with  a  peer. 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 


THE   MILLINER. 


Is  there  a  heart  that  never  lov'd, 

Nor  felt  soft  woman's  sigh  ? 
Is  there  a  man  can  mark  unmov'd 
Dear  woman's  tearful  eye  ? 

Devil's  Bridqe. 

We  must  not,  however,  in  our  history  of  Emily  and  her 
suitors,  forget  the  hunable  Caroline  and  her  lover  ;  for  milliners 
have  hearts  as  well  as  their  betters,  and  they  break  sometimes. 
Caroline'.s  story  forms  only  an  episode  in  our  general  history ; 
and,  perhaps  some  of  my  readers  will  recollect,  that  it  is  not  the 


188  THE    OXONIANS. 

first  time  a  pretty  milliner  has  formed  an  episode  in  a  man's 
life.  "■  Where  there  is  a  will  there  is  a  way,"  is  one  of  tiiose 
j)roverb?,  that,  like  most  of  the  old  adages,  is  a  true  one  ;  and, 
however  wayward  the  will  may  be,  there  arc  generally  means, 
if  industriously  soufrht,  sufficient  to  gratify  it.  Caroline  Dor- 
mer had  felt  too  much  delight  in  the  renewal  of  her  intercourse 
with  Hartley,  to  give  up  the  continuance  of  it  ;  and  she  was 
not  long,  therefore,  before  she  found  a  person  to  whom  she 
confided  her  secret,  and  who  agreed  to  accompany  her  in  her 
future  interviews.  This  was  the  daughter  of  the  humble  and 
distant  relative,  who  had  received  her  on  her  arrival  in  town  ; 
and  who  had  procured  for  her  the  situation  in  which  Hartley 
had  discovered  her.  The  confidante  was  several  years  older 
than  herself;  and  this  was  some  salvo  to  the  conscience  of 
Caroline,  and,  in  her  eyes,  made  her  presence  a  more  proper 
sanction  for  her  meetings  with  Hartley,  than  if  she  had  merely 
been  of  her  own  age.  Fanny  Thompson,  however,  though 
older,  had  not  bought  prudence,  either  with  her  years,  or  her 
experience  ;  and  could  not  but  wonder  at  the  folly  of  Caroline, 
in  wishing  her  interviews  with  her  lover  thus  to  be  intruded  on 
by  a  third  person,  who,  according  to  her  notions  (I  must  not 
dignify  them  by  the  title  of  ideas)  must  spoil  all  the  pleasure 
of  the  meeting.  At  any  rate,  this  would  liave  been  her  opi- 
nion of  any  third  person  who  had  been  present  at  such  inter- 
views, when  she  too  had  lovers.  At  first,  therefore,  she  at- 
tempted to  argue  Caroline  out  of  the  intention  of  being  always 
accompanied,  and  to  persuade  her  that  it  was  but  quite  "  right, 
natural,  and  proper,"  to  use  her  own  words,  "  to  give  the  gen- 
tleman the  meeting  by  herself."  When,  however,  she  found, 
that,  by  accompanying  her  friend,  she  received  sundry  valuable 
presents ;  and  becaine  the  partaker  of  many  pleasures,  of  the 
enjoyment  of  which,  she  had  no  chance  by  any  other  means  ; 
she  soon  become  content  with  the  rule  of  confidante,  and  con- 
trived every  means  in  her  power  to  be  as  little  "  de  trop"  as 
possible. 

Intimation  that  the  "  convenient  friend"  was  found  was  soon 
therefore  conveyed  to  Hartley  ;  who  was  noi  long  in  availing 
himself  of  the  opportunities  which  this  aflbrded  him  of  seeing 
Caroline.  From  the  moment  he  had  discovered  her,  his  heart 
had  revolted  at  the  idea  of  her  menial  situation,  for  in  no  other 
light  could  he  consider  it.  He  could  not  bear  the  idea  of  the 
woman  he  loved,  working  for  her  daily  bread  ;  and  he  used 
every  argument  in  his  power  to  induce  her  to  quit  it,  and  to 
accept  the  means  of  existence  from  himself,  until  some  change, 


THE    OXOKIANS.  189 

that  might  place  them  in  a  different  position  v/ith  regard   to 
each  other,  should  take  place. 

To  this  proposal,  however,  Caroline  would  not  listen  for  a 
moment :  circumstances,  he  had  candidly  told  her,  prevented 
his  yet  daring  to  propose  their  marriage  to  his  family  ;  and, 
till  such  a  certainty  as  that  occurred,  she  determined  to  accept 
nothing  from  him,  and  prided  herself  on  her  humble  independ- 
ence. Not  even  a  present  beyond  a  plain  locket  with  his  hair, 
could  he  prevail  upon  her  to  accept,  nor  would  she  permit  him 
to  do  any  thing  that  could  add  to  the  comfort,  or  ameliorate 
the  disagreeableness,  of  her  situation. 

The  circumstances  to  which  Hartley  alluded,  were,  in  fact, 
precisely  the  same  as  they  were  when  they  last  parted ;  but  the 
additional  knowledge  of  the  world,  which  he  had  acquired  since 
his  entrance  into  life,  and  in  the  various  scenes  through  which 
he  had  passed  in  his  short  career,  had  made  the  possibility  of 
their  marriage  very  debateable  ground  in  his  own  mind.  He 
had  lived  with  a  set  o[  young  men,  who  treated  the  marriage 
tie  as  a  jest ;  to  whom  many  a  husband  was  only  an  object  of 
pity  or  of  ridicule  ;  and  who  only  looked  upon  matrimony  as 
a  method  of  extending  their  connexion,  power,  or  fortune. 

Nothing  unhinges  the  morals  of  a  young  and  inexperienced 
heart  so  much  as  this  light  conversation  on  serious  subjects. 
Nothing  loosens  the  influence  of  morality  and  religion  in  a 
mind,  unused  to  think  for  itself,  and  to  draw  and  act  upon  its 
own  conclusions,  more,  than  to  hear  sacred  subjects  treated 
jestingly  and  with  levity. 

The  mind  is  shocked  by  open  blasphemy,  and  shrinks  from 
broad  indelicacy  ;  but  the  perpetual  light  shafts  that  are 
launched  against  serious  subjects  and  institutions,  in  the  com- 
mon intercourse  of  conversation,  soon  undermines  the  respect 
which  those  feel  for  them,  whose  reverence  is  not  founded  on 
something  stronger  than  that  of  mere  habit  or  imitation. 

Mortified,  as  Hartley  was  at  this  determination  of  Caroline  to 
owe  him  nothing  but  the  pleasure  derived  from  his  society,  it 
yet,  almost  unknown  to  himself,  raised  her  in  his  estimation. 

"  The  presents  were  therefore  all  transferred  to  Miss  Fanny 
Thompson  the  confidante,  who  treated  them,  as  Fatima's  father 
does  the  camels  in  Colman's  drama  of  Blue  Beard,  and  seemed 
"  to  whip  them  in  with  their  own  tails,"  by  the  readiness  with 
which  she  accepted  them. 

Caroline's  hours  of  business — do  not  let  polite  ears  be 
shocked,  that  one  of  our  heroines  is  obliged  to  number  such 
hours — occupied  her  from  eight  in  the  morning  till  eight  in  the 


190  THE   0X0N1AK9. 

evening,  and  those  regulations  which  ordained  this  as  the  time 
to  be  devoted  to  labour,  as  avcU  as  the  time  at  which  she  was 
expected  to  rejoin  her  companions  at  home,  were  both  rigidly 
adhered  to  by  Caroline,  in  spite  of  all  the  remonstrances,  and 
sometimes  anger  of  Hartley. 

Her  labour,  however,  now  no  longer  hung  heavy  on  her  hands ; 
she  had  recollections  and  anticipations  to  lighten  their  burden  ; 
her  life  was  a  life  of  hope  again,  and  as  she  counted  the  tedious 
hours  as  they  passed,  she  had  something  to  look  forward  to  at  the 
end  of  them,  which  promised  her  pleasure — and  what  a  pleasure 
too  !  the  society  of  the  man  she  loved.  Those  women  who 
have  loved  truly,  will  well  know  how  much  of  pain  such  a 
pleasure  will  repay  ;  and  Hartley's  passions,  if  noi  his  affec- 
tions, were  sufficiently  engaged,  scarcely  to  let  an  evening 
elapse  that  he  did  not  pass  in  the  society  of  Caroline  from 
eight  till  eleven.  She  was  devotedly  fond  of  music,  he  was 
careful,  therefore,  to  secure  a  secluded  box  in  one  of  the 
higher  tiers  for  every  opera  night,  where  he  was  delighted  at 
the  pleasure  she  experienced,  and  surprised  at  the  superior 
knowledge  of  the  science  which  she  evinced.  On  these  nights, 
the  confidante,  whom  he  had  supplied  with  a  capital  glass  by 
Dollond,  for  that  purpose,  amused  herself  by  admiring  the 
dresses  in  the  boxes,  and  counting  the  bald  heads  in  the  pit ; 
and  though  she  was  insensible  to  the  music  of  Mozart  or  Ros- 
sini, she  was  by  no  means  ijidifferent  to  the  dancing,  which 
excited  in  her  various  inclinations  to  giggle,  and  exclamations 
of  ''  Oh,  my  !"  at  the  tremendous  expose  of  limbs  in  "  Pirou- 
ettes renversecs,^^  &c.  She  was,  however,  perpetually  interrupt- 
ing the  tete-a-tete  of  the  lovers,  by  inquiries  as  to  who  were 
the  different  occupiers  of  the  boxes  ;  a  curiosity,  which  Hartley 
was  perfectly  capable  ofgratifying,  from  his  extensive  intercourse 
in  fashionable  society.  Fanny  Thompson  at  length,  however, 
became  tired  of  the  opera.  It  was  a  mighty  dull  piece  of  busi- 
ness ;  nothing  but  a  parcel  of  music,  which  gave  her  no  plea- 
sure, and  all  in  a  language  which  she  did  not  understand  ;  she 
therefore,  at  length,  generally  sought  a  refuge  from  ennui  in 
sleep  ;  a  circumstance,  upon  which  Hartley  congratulated 
himself  aloud  ;  and  which,  we  must  own,  did  not  create  any 
thing  like  sorrow  in  Caroline. 

On  other  evenings,  when  some  performance  at  the  English 
theatres  promised  greater  entertainment  than  usual,  a  private 
box  was  provided  ;  and  here  the  confidante  was  much  more  at 
home.  She  could  Aveep  with  Juliet  or  Bclvidera,  and  laugh 
with  Listen  or  Harley  ;  enter  into  the  drollery  and  pathos  of 


THE   OXONIANS.  191 

Mathews,  whose  delineations  of  human  nature  come  home  to 
every  man's  bosom  ;  and  enjoy  the  vivacity  of  Yates  ;  and 
drew  comparisons  between  Drury  Lane  and  Covent  Garden, 
and  the  King's  Theatre,  not  at  all  to  the  advantage  of  the 
latter.  On  fine  nights,  when  the  moon  was  bright  and  the  air 
not  too  cold,  the  carriage  would  drive  them  to  the  gate  of 
Hyde-park,  or  a  mile  or  two  into  the  country  ;  where  the  few 
hours  of  Caroline's  liberty  were  spent  in  walking  with  her  lover 
by  moonlight,  and  in  the  interchange  of  sentiments,  which  on 
these  occasions  was  more  delightful,  and  frequently  more  dan- 
gerous, than  in  the  midst  of  a  crowded  theatre,  with  other  ob- 
jects to  distract  her  attention.  Sometimes,  but  very  seldom, 
and  not  till  her  confidence  in  Hartley  had  been  fully  esta- 
blished ;  would  she  accompany  Fanny  to  his  rooms  in  the 
Albany,  where  a  petit  souper  (his  dinner)  was  provided  in  his 
library  ;  and  here,  perhaps,  that  domestic  intercourse  which 
was  the  consequence  of  evenings  spent  thus,  tended,  as  much 
as  any  thing,  to  rivet  her  affections  still  more  closely.  On 
these  occasions,  the  hours  were  passed  in  conversation  and 
reading ;  and  by  this  interchange  of  their  opinions,  they 
thought  they  discovered  a  similarity  of  sentiment  and  feeling, 
which  fitted  them  for  each  other.  I  say,  thought  ;  because 
when  persons  have  an  inclination  for  each  otlier,  they  are  too 
apt  to  imagine  a  congeniality,  which,  in  after  times,  they  are 
surprised  to  find  never  existed  in  reality.  Few  people  deceive 
themselves  or  each  other  so  much  as  lovers  do.  Thinking  and 
wishing  alike  in  one  great  point,  they  are  too  apt  to  take  it  for 
granted  that  their  thoughts  and  wishes  are  the  same  upon  all 
others  ;  and  the  desire  to  please,  while  they  are  lovers,  not 
only  helps  the  deception,  but  frequently  induces  the  adoption 
of  each  other's  opinions  as  their  own. 

It  was  in  these  visits,  that  Caroline  frequently  surprised 
Hartley  by  the  powers  of  her  conversation,  and  by  the  extent 
of  her  acquirements,  as  well  as  pleased  him,  by  her  proficiency 
at  the  piano.  She  might  not  execute  with  the  precision  of  a 
professed  player,  or  of  one  of  those  amateurs  who  fall  little 
short  of  the  excellence  of  professors  ;  but  she  played  with  a 
feeling  which  proved  how  much  of  her  soul  was  in  the  occu- 
pation ;  and  sang  the  plaintive  ballads,  with  which  our  native 
music  abounds,  in  a  style  calculated  to  produce  an  effect,  with 
which  Miss  Stephens  herself  might  have  been  gratified.  Her 
reading  had  been  desultory,  and  the  rudiments  of  that  education 
instilled  by  her  mother  had  not  been  regularly  acted  upon,  after 
that  lady's  decease.    Historical  reading  had  been  mixed  with 


192  THE   OXONIANS. 

romance  ;  didactic  studies  had  been  mingled  with  poetry  ,  and 
natural  inclination  leading  lier  much  more  into  the  world  of 
fiction,  than  the  dry  j)ath3  of  dull  truth,  Caroline  had  formed 
her  ideas  of  life,  more  from  romance,  than  reality.  Her 
father,  whose  sole  ideas  of  education  were  bounded,  like  a  true 
old  Oxonian,  by  the  classics,  had  indulged  his  own  inclinations 
by  giving  her  an  insight  into  the  literature  of  the  ancients  ;  so 
that,  perhaps,  though  inferior  to  other  women  in  some  points, 
she  was  their  superior  in  those  which  do  not  generally  form 
portions  of  female  acquirement.  This  kind  of  mixed  education, 
and  living  mucli  with  her  father,  who  was  a  man  of  profound 
erudition,  had  given  her  a  strength  of  mind  beyond  her  years ; 
but  the  indulgence  of  her  poetical  inclinations  had  added  to  the 
tenderness  of  her  disposition,  and  created  a  heart  peculiarly 
formed  to  love,  and  to  love  devotedly. 

These  evenings  were  perhaps  among  the  most  pleasant,  not 
only  of  those  which  Hartley  passed  with  Caroline,  but  of  those 
which  he  passed  any  where.  It  is  true  that  eleven  o'clock  was 
too  early  an  hour  for  such  interviews  to  interfere  materially,  with 
his  evening  engagements  ;  buthe  always  found  the  mostsplendid 
party  insipid  after  quitting  Caroline,  whom  he  generally  set 
down  with  her  friend,  in  his  way  to  his  routs  or  quadrilles. 

Their  evening  interviews  were  of  course  limited  to  the  usual 
three  hours  ;  but  on  Sundays  they  spent  the  whole  day  together. 
On  these  mornings,  a  carriage  generally  waited  to  receive 
Caroline  and  her  friend  in  St.  James's  Square,  in  which  Hartley 
accompanied  them  to  some  one  of  those  many  pleasant  places 
within  a  drive  from  the  metropolis ;  always  taking  care  to 
choose  those,  where  they  were  not  likely  to  encounter  the 
pleasure-seeking  cocknies.  Here,  they  enjoyed  each  other's 
society,  admired  the  beauties  of  nature  ;  and  the  only  alloy  to 
the  pleasures  of  the  day  was  the  anticipation  of  parting  in  the 
evening.  It  was  on  these  days  that  Caroline  sometimes  gave 
herself  up  to  the  full  delight  of  her  enjoyment  of  her  lover's 
society  ;  here  she  reposed  in  full  security  u]ion  his  arm,  listened 
to  his  conversation,  and,  if  her  lips  did  not  utter  the  fulness  of 
her  love,  Hartley  delighted  to  read  it  in  her  looks. 

There  were  but  two  drawbacks  upon  the  pleasures  Hartley 
experienced  in  these  interviews  ;  the  one  arising  from  the  un- 
certainty of  his  own  meaning,  motives,  and  intentions  ;  and  the 
other,  from  the  intei-rupting  presence  of  the  eternal  Fanny 
Thompson.  She  seemed  to  sit,  with  her  quiet  face,  like  an 
incubus  upon  his  pleasures  ;  and  it  required  all  his  innate  po- 
liteness, and  all  his  consideration  for  Caroline,  to  treat  her  with 


THE   0X0NIAK3.  198 

the  civility  which  always  characterized  his  behaviour  to  her  ; 
for  he  was  civil  to  her,  even  at  the  moment  that  he  could  have 
thrown  her  out  of  the  opera  box  into  the  pit,  or  out  of  the  win- 
dows of  his  chambers  into  the  area,  for  the  purpose  of  gettincr 
a  few  moments  with  Caroline  alone.  Yet,  the  poor  woman 
did  her  best  to  make  herself  agreeable  ;  she  slept  over  a  book 
in  the  Albany  ;  shut  her  eyes,  if  she  did  not  sleep,  in  the  corner 
of  the  carriage,  and  kept  her  attention  perpetually  fixed  upon 
the  stage  at  the  theatres  :  still,  there  she  was,  and  Monsieur 
Tonson  was  never  a  greater  plague  to  the  poor  Frenchman  in 
the  Seven  Dials,  than  his  female  namesake  was  to  Hartley.  It 
was  in  vain  that  he  pleaded  for  her  absence  :  in  spite  of  the 
perfect  confidence  which  she  placed  in  the  honour  of  her  lover, 
Caroline  was  determined  upon  this  point ;  it  was  the  salvo  to 
her  conscience ;  the  appui  upon  which  she  supported  the 
apology  for  her  interviews  ;  and  she  would  not  give  wtty  to  him 
in  this  instance. 

It  is  almost  impossible  to  describe  how  much  these  repeated 
meetings  increased  the  love  of  Caroline  for  Hartley.  His  undi- 
minished and  perpetual  attentions  ;  the  delicacy  with  which  he 
sought  to  give  her  pleasure ;  the  respect  which  he  paid  her 
person ;  and  the  superior  conversation,  and  the  intellectual 
delight  which  she  enjoyed  in  her  interviews  with  him  ;  all 
tended  to  render  her  heart  more  devoted  than  ever,  to  the  only 
man  in  whose  favour  it  had  experienced  a  feeling. 

Tlie  contrast  of  these  hours  with  those  spent  in  her  unin- 
teresting labours,  increased  their  effect  upon  her  imagination  ; 
and  although  their  enjoyment  did  not  diminish  her  industry, 
they  certainly  sometimes  rendered  the  time  devoted  to  her  daily 
occupation,  a  little  more  tedious. 

The  history  of  Caroline  and  Hartley  is  by  no  means  an  un- 
common one  in  this  metropolis  ;  as,  if  walls  had  tongues  as  well 
as  ears,  might  be  pretty  well  substantiated  by  the  evidence 
of  those  of  the  Albany,  Carlton  Chambers,  the  Temple,  and 
other  domiciles  appropriated  to  single  gentlemen.  Luckily, 
however,  or  perhaps  unluckily,  these  mural  evidences  are 
silent  ;  and  there  is  no  Paul  Pry  of  an  Asmodeus  to  lay  open 
the  various  scenes  which  take  place  within  their  precincts  ;  as 
a  warning  to  deter  future  victims  from  that  iate  to  which  they 
have  been  witnesses. 

This  "  luite''^  between  the  virtue  of  a  milliner,  and  the  tempta^ 
lions  which  a  gentleman  has  it  in  his  power  to  offer  her,  we 
have  always  considered  but  a  very  unfair  contest.  It  is  a  hawk 
pursuing  a  butterfly.     A  woman,  with  but  little  education,  and 

Vol.  I.— 17 


194  THE   0X0KIAK9. 

condemned  by  the  poverty  of  the  situation  in  which  she  is  born^ 
to  earn  her  bread  by  a  laborious  employment,  unfortunately 
attracts  by  her  beauty  the  attention  of  some  sensualist  of 
fashion.  His  rank  in  life,  in  his  own  opinion,  gives  him  a  right 
to  make  any  attempt  he  pleases  ;  and  he  is  generally  secure 
from  the  resentment  of  brothers  and  cousins,  even  should  he 
excite  that  of  the  object  of  his  pursuit.  Let  us  imagine, 
however,  what  is  very  natural,  and  perhaps  too  generally  the 
case ;  that  the  attentions  of  one  of  superior  rank  are  not  dis- 
agreeable ;  and  that  a  person  in  this  situation  is  imprudent 
enough  to  permit  their  being  paid  ;  and,  in  time,  to  grant 
interviews,  that  are  solicited  under  professions  of  the  heart- 
lessness  of  which  the  poor  girl  is  not  aware. 

Pleasures  are  procured  for  her,  of  the  existence  of  which  she 
was  till  ihis  time  ignorant ;  presents  are  made  ;  and  enjoyments 
offered,  of  a  nature  that  her  own  situation  in  life  must  have  for 
ever  precluded  ;  her  leisure  moments  are  spent  in  drives,  thea- 
tres, and  various  pursuits,  which  disgust  her  with  her  ordinary  oc- 
cupations ;  and  in  society  which  makes  her  look  with  contempt 
i\pon  the  evcry-day  companions  of  her  labour.  Her  ideas  rise 
above  her  circumstances  ;  no  time  is  left  for  reflection  ;  every 
thing  that  can  gratify  the  senses,  or  accelerate  the  plea- 
sures of  the  passing  moment  are  presented  to  her  inexperience  ; 
and  she  falls  a  prey  to  the  designing  sensualist  who  has  marked 
her  for  his  own,  and  hunted  her  over  paths  of  flowers  till  his 
succeeding  indiflerence  withers  them  up,  and  leaves  his  victim 
nothing  before  her,  but  to  retrace  her  steps  through  pain,  humi- 
liation, and  repentance  ;  or  to  pursue  a  career  which  must 
ultimately  end  in  destruction. 

It  is  surprising,  what  pains  are  taken  by  a  certain  set  of  men 
in  the  seduction  of  women  of  this  class  of  society.  During 
the  pursuit,  nothing  is  spared  ;  splendid  promises  are  made, 
and  believed  ;  money  is  lavished  in  presents  ;  like  a  victim 
destined  to  be  immolated  upon  the  altar,  every  wish,  however 
capricious,  is  gratified.  But  these  efforts  once  crowned  with 
success,  how  the  scene  changes  !  There  is  such  a  run  at  the 
Opera,  that  there  is  no  box  to  be  procured — carriage  horses 
are  lame,  or  the  cab  under  repair — a  family  is  come  to  town, 
and  a  father  may  be  offended  at  his  absence — young  men 
become  suddenly  filial  who  never  thought  of  their  parents  before 
in  their  lives.  In  short,  there  is  never  wanting  an  excuse  to 
avoid  the  performance  of  those  promises  which  had  misled  ;  or 
to  realize  the  anticipations,  which  had  misguided  the  unfor- 
tunate girl.     If  she  have  a  virtuous  mind,  and  a  sensitive  heart, 


THE    OXONIANS.  195 

the  disappointment  ruins  her  health  and  spirits ;  and  bitterness, 
and  remorse  are  her  portion.  If,  on  the  contrary,  all  virtuous 
dispositions  have  been  eradicated,  and  it  has  been  her  vanity 
and  levity,  rather  than  her  affections,  by  which  she  has  been 
deluded,  she  vents  her  spleen  in  reproaches,  and  pursues  the 
same  course  with  others. 

Look  into  the  lives  of  nine-tenths  of  those  unfortunates  who 
form  decidedly  the  most  pitiable  class  of  society  in  the  world  ; 
and  you  may  trace  a  history  similar  to  that  which  we  have 
attempted  above. 

Caroline  Dormer  was,  however,  superior  to  any  such  tempta- 
tions as  these  ;  and  Hartley  certainly  was  not  guilty  in  his 
intentions  towards  her.  They  both  felt  the  delight  of  being 
together,  and  Caroline  derived  her  ideas  of  security,  or  rather 
never  thought  herself  in  danger,  from  the  perfect  confidence  she 
placed  in  her  lover.  There  was  one  thing  neither  of  them  ven- 
tured ;  they  never  anticipated ;  they  reversed  the  Scripture 
phrase,  and  seemed  to  think  that  "  sufhcient  for  the  day  was  the 
good  thereof."  In  this  instance,  at  any  rate,  they  thought  with 
Seneca,  that  it  was  wise  "  to  enjoy  the  present  without  any 
anxious  dependence  for  the  future." 

Hartley  never  thought  of  the  future  at  all ;  or,  if  he  did, 
was  totally  unconscious  of  what  it  might  produce  ;  and,  when 
it  would  force  itself  upon  Caroline's  mind,  it  was  always 
sweetened  by  some  romantic  hope,  that  circumstances  would, 
at  length,  favour  their  union. 

In  the  mean  time,  their  meetings  became  still  more  frequent. 
No  opportunity  of  seeing  each  other  was  lost  ;  till  poor  Fanny 
Thompson  began  herself  to  be  almost  tired  of  her  part  ;  and 
proffered  a  silent  wish,  that  Mr.  Hartley  had  some  kind 
friend,  who  would  take  upon  himself  to  relieve  her  from  the 
todiura  of  the  many  hours  she  was  compelled  to  pass  with  the 
lovers.  Sometimes,  the  total  neglect  of  the  Sabbath  duties, 
which  this  kind  of  life  induced,  gave  a  pang  of  momentary 
repentance  to  Caroline,  as  she  recollected  how  differently 
that  day  was  wont  to  be  passed  ;  but  this  was  banished,  the 
lifioment  she  saw  Hartley's  beaming  eye  and  happy  coun- 
tenance, smiling  his  welcome,  and  his  approbation  at  her 
punctuality,  out  of  the  carriage  windov/  ;  and  was  never  re- 
membered, till  the  Sunday  was  over,  and  she  was  in  bed,  trying 
to  recall  every  word  that  he  uttered,  and  attempting  to  live 
over  again  the  events  and  conversations  of  the  day. 

These  meetings  were,  however,  now  to  be  interrupted  by  the 
illness  of  Fanny  Thompson  ;  who,  having  no  ardour  to  defend 


198  THE   OXOXIANS. 

her  from  damp  evenings,  caught  cold  from  a  wafer  excursion 
with  the  lovers,  and  became  so  ill  as  to  be  confined  to  her 
bed  with  a  rheumatic  fever.  Night  after  night  did  Caroline 
attend  her  three  hours  by  her  bedside  ;  and  physician  after 
physician  was  sent  by  Hartley,  in  the  hopes  of  effecting  a 
speedy  cure  ;  still  Fanny's  "  recreant  limbs"  refused  their  of- 
fice. Flower  of  mustard,  warm  baths,  flesh  brushes,  and 
Caroline's  attentions,  were  useless;  the  obstinate  fever  still 
maintained  its  ground  :  and  during  this  period,  Caroline  was 
resolute  in  her  determination  not  to  see  Hartley.  It  was  in 
vain  he  pleaded  ;  in  vain  he  wrote  ;  in  vain  he  waylaid  her 
in  her  nightly  visits  to  her  friend  ;  he  could  obtain  nothing 
but  the  privilege  of  a  hurried  walk  with  her  fi'om  Kcgrnt- 
street  to  Fanny's  lodging,  which  was  situated  in  some  golhic 
street  in  Holborn. 

The  many,  many  times  that  Hartley  had  wished  the  con- 
fidant, or,  as  he  designated  her,  the  duenna,  at  the  bottom  of 
the  sea  ;  or  seized  with  the  gout,  or  the  cramp,  or  any  thing 
that  would  have  prevented  her  from  forming  a  trio  with  him- 
self and  Caroline,  now  occurred  to  his  memory  by  way  of 
punishment.  He  had  little  anticipated  the  possibility  of  the 
time  arriving,  when  he  should  devoutly  pray  for  the  health  and 
presence  of  the  eternal  Fanny  Thompson.  No  bulletin,  how- 
ever, of  a  prince  was  more  anxiously  expected  by  a  minister 
he  patronised,  and  whose  office  depended  upon  the  master's 
convalescence  ;  than  the  nightly  and  raatinal  report  of  the 
progress  of  Fanny  Thompson's  disorder.  As  for  her  mother, 
she  was  quite  astonished  at  the  constant  inquiries  of  a  dashing 
livery  servant  after  the  health  of  her  daughter,  and  almost 
began  to  suspect  that  all  was  not  quite  right,  and  to  question 
Fanny  more  particularly. 

In  the  exjiectation  that  a  few  days  would  terminate  her 
friend's  illness,  Caroline  waited  with  patience,  and  adhered, 
without  much  difhcully,  to  her  resolution  to  forego  the  plea- 
sure of  Hartley's  society,  and  to  deny  him  the  usual  inter- 
views. But,  as  week  after  week  passed  on,  without  any  ame- 
lioration of  Fanny's  complaint,  the  privation  became  almost 
too  great  for  her  to  bear.  She  became  irritable  and  impatient  : 
memory  painted  the  happy  hours  she  had  spent,  and  her  feel- 
ings contrasted  them  wof^ully  with  the  present.  She  became 
angry  with  herself — with  Fanny — with  the  rlionmatic  fever — 
with  the  whole  world.  In  the  mean  time.  Hartley  wrote  to 
her  daily  ;  and  in  every  letter  became  more  and  more  urgent 
for  a  renewal  of  their  intercourse.     He  recalled  to  her  mind 


THE    OXONIANS.  197 

its  innocence  ;  he  pictured  to  her  the  past  prudence  of  his 
conduct ;  and  was  sometimes  so  hurried  away  by  the  impe- 
tuosity of  his  feelings,  that  none  could  have  read  his  letters,  and 
doubted  his  intentions  of  making  Caroline  his  wife,  although 
there  was  no  explicit  declaration  of  the  kind.  The  hurried 
interviews,  which  he  contrived  in  the  street,  only  added  to  the 
irritation  of  both  parties  ;  since  they  were  passed  in  violent 
pleadings  and  reproaches  on  his  part,  and  forced  denials  on 
hers  ;  till,  at  length,  they  were  both  worked  up  to  such  a  state 
of  mutual  excitement,  that  they  were  each  of  them  almost  in 
as  great  a  fever  as  poor  Fanny  Thompson  herself. 

Caroline  found  her  daily  occupation  more  distasteful  than 
ever.  She  became  restless  and  uneasy  ;  the  days  seemed  in- 
terminable, and  her  nights  were  in  reality  sleepless  ;  and 
Hartley's  daily  threatening  and  half-angry  letters  preyed  upon 
her  mind. 

As  to  Hartley,  he  alternately  cursed  the  eternal  fever  of 
Fanny,  and  prayed  for  her  recovery  :  then  entreated,  and  then 
scolded  Caroline  ;  accused|her  of  want  of  affection,  of  want 
of  confidence,  and  scarcely  ever  quitted  her,  in  their  now 
short  interviews,  without  leaving  her  in  tears. 

At  length  his  perseverance  began  to  prevail.  Caroline 
recollected  the  reasons  she  had  for  confidence  in  him — her 
own  heart  sickened  at  the  total  absence  of  that  intercourse, 
which  had  been  so  delicious,  and  from  w  hich  she  had  derived 
so  much  pleasure,  and  pleaded  for  a  partial  revival  of  it. 
Fanny's  recovery  seemed  farther  removed  than  ever,  and  her 
delicacy  prevented  her  venturing  to  make  another  confidant. 
Under  all  these  circumstances,  and  unable  herself  to  bear, 
with  any  degree  of  equanimity,  the  almost  total  absence  which 
she  had  of  Late  compelled  herself  to  endure,  she  began  to  re- 
lent ;  and  at  length  agreed  to  meet  her  lover  once  more,  upon 
the  first  Sunday  ;  upon  the  express  stipulation,  however,  that 
it  was  only  to  be  for  a  morning  drive  in  his  cabriolet. 

Some  may  imagine,  by  the  difficulty  that  Caroline  made  in 
granting  this  meeting,  or,  indeed,  at  any  time,  in  meeting 
Hartley  alone,  that  she  doubted  either  herself  or  her  lover. 
But  this  was  not  the  case.  Caroline  always  looked  forward, 
at  some  period  or  other,  to  be  his  wife  ;  and,  should  that  ever 
be  the  case,  she  knew  that  prudence,  under  the  present  cir- 
<Himstances,  would  excite  and  ensure  future  confidence  and 
esteem  •  and,  as  the  wife  of  Hartley,  she  wished  to  look  back 
to  her  present  trying  situation,  without  having  the  slightesi 
Jareach  of  delicac;'  with  which  to  reproach  herself. 

17* 


I&8  THE  OXONIANS. 

Secure  in  Caroline's  promise,  Hartley  tasted  of  the  first 
real  pleasure  since  the  period  of  Fanny  Thompson's  illness  ; 
and  though  Caroline's  heart  trembled  as  she  made  it,  she  too 
derived  some  comfort  at  the  anticipation  of  again  seeing  her 
lover  as  she  had  done.  Thus  they  both  anticipated  the  coming 
Sunday  with  anxiety  ;  he  all  imjiatience,  tliat  made  every  in- 
tervening moment  seem  an  age  ;  and  she  with  a  trembling  an- 
ticipation of  the  pleasure  it  was  to  bring  her,  that  rather 
shortened  than  lengthened  the  hours  she  had  to  pass  before  it 
arrived. 

At  length  came  that  Saturday  night  which  closes  the  la- 
bours of  the  week  ;  and  away  liurried  the  common  Avorld  to 
their  marketing,  and  the  fashionable  world  to  the  completion 
of  their  weekly  pleasures  at  the  Opera. 

Caroline  spent  the  evening,  as  usual,  by  Fanny  Thompson's 
bedside — Hartley  wiled  it  away  at  the  Opera  ;  but  neither  of 
them  counted  that  Saturday  night  as  tlie  best  they  had  ever 
passed  with  regard  to  sleep. 


CHAPTER  XXV 


A    SU^DAY. 


The  sevenlli  day  this — the  jubilee  of  man. 

London!  right  well  thou  know'st  the  day  of  prayer. 

Then,  thy  spruced  citizen,  wash'd  artisan, 

And  snug  apprentice,  gulp  tiieir  weekly  air. 

Thy  coach  of  hackne}',  whiskey,  one-horse  chair. 

And  liumblest  gig,  thro'  sundry  suburbs  whirl ; 

To  Ilanipstead,  Brentford,  Harrow,  all^repair, 
Till  the  tired  jade  the  wheel  forgets  to  hurl, 
Provoking  envious  gibe  from  each  pedestrian  chun. 

Childe  Harolin 

SuNDAv  !  what  a  variety  of  sensations  does  this  day  of  rest 
create.  How  many,  ere  its  morning  dawns,  throw  up  their 
sash  windows,  and  cast  an  anxious  glance  towards  the  east,  to 
ascertain  whether  it  is  to  be  rain  or  sunshine  ;  whether  llie  new 
pelisse  and  bonnet  are  to  be  sported,  and  returned  unspotted 
to  their  domiciles  of  drawer  and  bandbox,  where,  neatly  pa- 
pered, they  are  to  rest  while  their  mistress  fags,  to  be  again 
lirought  into  work,  when  she  takes  her  pleasure  ;  or  whether 


THE   OXOKIA?fS.  1^9 

these  cherished  garments  are  to  be  "  drenched  with  envious 
rain."  How  many  hearts  flutter  at  the  anticipation  of  what 
the  pleasures  of  the  day  may  produce ;  and  how  many  would 
wiUingly  prolong  its  hours  through  the  remainder  of  the  week, 
insensible  that  it  derives  more  than  half  the  enjoyment  for 
which  they  prize  it,  from  the  very  circumstance  of  its  recurring 
but  once  in  seven  days. 

Whether  it  be  looked  upon,  in  a  religious  point  of  view,  as 
a  day  set  apart  from  worldly  concerns,  to  be  devoted  to  Him, 
who  himself  "  rested  on  the  seventh  day  from  all  his  work  ;" 
or  merely  considered  in  a  political  one,  as  a  day  of  rest  from 
the  laborious  toils  of  the  week,  as  the  only  day  of  pleasure  out 
of  the  seven  ;  there  is  scarcely  a  person,  excepting  in  the  mo- 
notonous existence  of  extreme  haut-ton,  where  every  day  is 
alike  passionless  and  pleasureless,  because  it  is  the  same,  upon 
whose  mind  Sunday  does  not  exert  some  species  of  influence. 

The  merchant,  who  finds  his  repose  in  calculating  the  profits 
of  his  week's  speculations ; — the  tradesman,  who  quits  for 
twenty-four  hours  the  diminutive  parlour,  which  commands  the 
rich  and  pleasant  prospect  of  his  till,  for  the  drawing-room, 
ten  feet  square,  whose  slmtters  are  never  open  but  when  those 
of  the  shop  are  closed,  and  whose  chilling  comforts  are,  through 
the  thriftiness  of  his  spouse,  only  on  that  day  permitted  to  be 
warmed  ; — the  clerk,  who  shovels  about  sovereigns,  which  are 
not  his  own,  for  six  days  in  the  week ;  with  no  pleasant  anti- 
cipation, but  the  pleasure  of  spending  the  one  which  is  his 
own  on  the  seventh,  and  whose  dry  pursuits  are  only  relieved 
by  dreams  of  hacks,  tilburies,  and  Rotten-row,  or  floating  ideas 
of  sailing-boats,  and  Chelsea-reach ; — the  lover,  whose  only 
chance  of  catching  a  glimpse  of  the  blue  eye  that  has  ensnared 
his  heart,  or  of  the  black  eye,  which  may  one  day  be  his  own, 
bestowed  either  by  the  hand  of  his  fair  one,  or  the  fist  of  his 
rival ;  is  at  the  parish  church ;  where  he  contrives  to  utter 
''  We  beseech  thee  to  hear  us,"  so  loud,  as  to  penetrate  to  the 
heart  of  his  mistress  in  the  next  pew,  who,  with  a  httle  egotisti- 
cal variation  of  the  text,  not  at  all  uncommon  in  the  fair  part 
of  the  creation,  contrives  to  appropriate  the  sentence  to  her- 
self;— the  debtor,  who  looks  upon  it  as  a  day  of  freedom  from 
the  duns  of  creditors  and  the  dread  of  bailiflfs — all  have  their 
separate  hopes  and  expectations. 

Nor  has  Sunday  a  less  degree  of  influence  on  that  sex,  who 
are  "  the  blight  and  bloom  of  every  man's  happiness" — from 
the  fat  Mrs.  Figgins,  in  the  grocery  line,  who  enters  her  church 
in  a  new  plumb'Coloured  pelisse,  in  the  religious  hope  of  see- 


200  THE   OXONIANS. 

ing  envy  sparkle  in  the  saucer  eyes  of  the  crockery-dealing 
Mrs.  Grundy ;  to  the  tender  miss  in  her  teens,  who,  treading 
in  the  steps  of  her  mamma,  ventures  one  glance  at  her  enamo- 
rato  over  the  side  of  the  pew,  as  she  utters  the  words,  '*  That 
it  may  please  thee  to  give  us  a  heart  to  love,"  while  the  said 
mamma  is  buried  in  a  profound  nap  in  the  deep  recesses  of  her 
black  beaver,  or  cabriolet  bonnet,  in  which  her  head,  covered 
with  saucissons,  is  enveloped. 

Sunday  is  a  day,  in  which  a  religious  man  settles  his  account 
with  heaven,  and  a  worldly  one  balances  his  accounts  in  the 
leger;  in  which  a  clergyman  prides  himself  upon  his  new 
sermon,  and  his  wife  upon  her  new  pelisse.  In  other  countries 
it  is  characterized  by  masses,  homilies,  operas,  quadrilles,  and 
fandangoes  ;  and  in  England,  by  prayer  and  pleasure  ;  religion 
and  rioting  ;  going  out  without  fear  of  molestation  ;  and  being 
'' at  home"  to  single  knocks,  without  the  dread  of  their  an- 
nouncing the  importunity  of  a  dun  upon  the  purse,  or  the  title 
of  a  bailiff  to  the  person.  It  is  a  day  in  which  every  person, 
out  of  the  pale  of  polite  life,  for  it  is  truly  impolite  to  make 
any  difference  on  a  Sunday,  finds  some  variation  from  the  mo- 
notony of  existence,  and  makes  up  for  the  fag  of  the  last  six 
days,  by  laying  up  recollections  to  amuse  the  tedium  of  the  six 
ensuing. 

In  this  enumeration  of  the  pursuits  which  characterize  an 
English,  or  rather  a  metropolitan,  Sunday,  we  must  not,  how- 
ever, forget  that  there  are  many  who  rise  with  a  full  sense  of 
its  importance  upon  those  points  for  which  we  are  taught  that 
it  is  set  apart ;  and  who,  in  the  quiet  preparation  for  the  morn- 
ing's worship,  and  the  unaffected  solemnity  of  the  evening's 
devotion,  in  which  the  infant  kneels  with  the  mother,  and  the 
servant  mingles  his  aspirations  with  those  of  his  master,  find  a 
truer  pleasure  as  they  quietly  repose  their  heads  upon  their 
pillow,  at  the  close  of  a  day  spent  in  this  holy  communion  of 
spirit  and  of  sentiment,  than  those  who  have  sought  their  en- 
joyment in  an  idle  excursion  of  worldly  pleasure  ;  their  mirth, 
amid  the  riot  and  confusion  of  a  tavern,  or  their  consequence 
in  a  well-appointed  equipage. 

Caroline  had  passed  nearly  a  sleepless  night ;  and  when, 
worn  out  with  watching,  she  sank  for  a  (ew  moments  into  for- 
getfulness,  her  dreams  were  any  thing  but  pleasant.  She  re- 
joiced, therefore,  that  the  morning  avocation  did  not  require 
her  usual  early  rising,  and,  contrary  to  her  custom,  she  re- 
mained in  her  bed  long  after  every  other  inmate  of  this  dormi- 
tory of  the  industrious  priestesses  of  this  paodemonium  had 


THE   OXONIANS.  201 

quitted  their  pillows,  and  congratulated  each  other  on  the  pro- 
mising prospect  of  a  fine  day,  afforded  by  the  blue  sky,  and  by 
the  reflected  gleams  of  the  sun,  which  shone  upon  the  oppo- 
site attics. 

Disturbed,  however,  by  the  whisking  of  kerchiefs  and  ri- 
bands, and  by  all  the  bustle  of  the  toilet,  which  rendered  the 
room  a  little  Babel,  as  far  as  the  confusion  of  tongues  could 
make  it  so,  she  arose  ;  and  dressing  herself  all  but  her  outer 
garment,  she  sat  down  quietly,  or  lent  any  assistance  that  her 
more  impatient  companions  might  require. 

These,  without  having  read  any  works  on  the  division  of  la- 
bour, or  made  any  abstruse  calculation,  upon  the  rule-of-lhree 
principle,  that  if  one  pair  of  hands  can  do  so  much  within  a  given 
time,  so  many  more  could  accomplish  a  larger  quantity  of 
work,  had  certainly  hit  upon  some  methods  by  which  much 
time  at  the  toilet  was  saved.  As  one  instance  of  which,  these 
young  political  economists  laced  each  other's  stays  in  a  circle ; 
by  which  means  this  operation  was  performed  for  six  pair  of 
Robinson's,  or  Vestirin's  corsets,  in  precisely  the  same  quan- 
tity of  time  that  was^  necessary  for  the  completion  of  one. 
Unluckily,  the  circle  was  a  little  disturbed  on  the  morning  in 
question,  by  the  circumstance  of  one  of  the  laces  having  sud- 
denly given  away  at  an  additional  twitch  required  by  the  supe- 
rior rotundity  of  one  of  the  young  ladies  ;  in  consequence  of 
which,  the  upright  position  of  the  fair  operators  was  slightly 
disturbed  ;  and  they  were  thrown,  on  what  a  sailor  would  have 
called  "their  beam  ends,"  by  the  necessary  consequence  of 
missing  stays. 

As  for  Caroline,  she  was  not  long  suffered  to  remain  idle.  It 
was,  "Oh  Miss  Dormer,  pin  this  riband  on" — "Dear  Miss 
Dormer,  tie  my  sash" — "  Button  my  frock,  there's  a  dear" — 
"  Do  now  just  take  this  stitch  up,  there's  a  love" — "  Pray  pull 
out  my  sleeves" — "  Oh  dear,  do  tuck  in  this  little  bit  of  white ;" 
et  cetera,  et  cetera  ;  till  the  whole  operation  of  the  toilet  was 
finished,  and  Caroline  was  again  suffered  to  repose  in  quiet  on 
the  corner  of  the  bed.  During  this  process,  many  a  fair  face, 
while  waiting  for  its  turn  at  the  single  looking-glass  allowed 
for  their  adornment,  popped  out  of  the  window  with  an  anxious 
glance  towards  the  sky  ;  while  each,  like  the  smooth  surface 
of  the  silver  lake,  reflected  the  clouds,  or  brightness  of  the 
heavens,  in  the  disappointment  wkich  appeared  upon  their 
brow,  or  the  exultation  which  dwelt  in  their  smiles,  as  hope 
or  fear  predominated  as  to  rain  or  sunshine. 

At  length,  all  the  ceremonials  of  lacing,  tying,  stitching. 


20?  THE   OXONIANS. 

and  arranging  was  finished,  and  the  looking-glass  left  to  its 
own  reflections.  Then  arose  other  anxieties  ;  no  less  than 
those  experienced  for  the  arrival  of  the  beaux,  for  whom  these 
operations  of  the  toilet  had  been  endured.  Every  head  was 
now,  therefore,  stretched  out  of  the  windows  to  catch  the  first 
glimpse  of  the  cicesbeo  for  the  day ;  and  each  enjoyed  her  an- 
ticipations of  the  figure  her  beau  might  cut,  in  comparison 
with  those  of  her  companion. 

At  last  a  tilbury  turns  the  corner.  A  general  agitation  pro- 
claims that  it  comes  for  one;  and  a  particular  blush,  or  flush, 
or  whatever  that  delightful  sulfusion  may  be  called,  which  ani- 
mates alike  the  countenance  of  the  dutchess  and  the  dairy- 
maid, in  love  and  in  hate,  in  anger  and  in  delight,  designates 
which  that  one  is.  "Oh  Anna,"  exclaimed  half  a  dozen  at 
once,  "  it  is  Mr.  Jenkins,  I  declare."  Anna  does  not  know 
the  tilbury,  for  it  is  a  different  one  every  Sunday ;  she  does  not 
know  the  stud,  for  many  and  various  are  the  black,  white,  and 
gray,  geldings,  mares,  and  galloways,  with  which  the  livery- 
stable  keeper  kindly  permits  her  beau,  to  risk  hpr  neck,  as  well 
as  his  own,  for  the  trifling  remuneration  of  fifteen  shillings  for 
the  day.  But  she  does  recognise  thp  bright  blue  coat,  with 
velvet  collar  to  match ;  and  Anglesey-coloured  Wellingtons, 
which  met  her  full  approbation  when  first  put  on  six  months 
since  ;  she  does  recognise  the  redundancy  of  frill  which  lies 
plaited  between  the  stripes  of  his  waistcoat ;  the  shirt  collar 
which  intrudes  upon  the  well-trimmed  whisker  up  to  the  ear, 
which  looks  a  little  "  dog's  eared"  from  the  custom  of  wearing 
a  pen  behind  it  for  six  days  out  of  the  seven.  She  recognises 
also  the  bushy  hair,  poodled  under  the  hat ;  and  the  cloak 
lined  with  scarlet,  whose  shag  collar,  of  the  same  bright  hue, 
hangs  gracefully  pendant  over  the  back  of  the  tilbury,  hiding 
certain  indications  of  shabbiness  in  the  vehicle,  and  astonish- 
ing the  country  natives  into  temporary  notions  that  its  pro- 
prietor has  some  pretensions  to  military  rank.  Unacquainted 
with  that  dexterous  turn  of  the  wrist,  and  knowing  near-side 
touch  of  the  whip  which  brings  stud  and  tilbury  close  up  to 
the  kirb  (for  once  a  week  is  not  sufficient  practice  for  good 
tilbury  driving),  he  placed  his  horse  in  the  same  relative  posi- 
tion to  the  door  of  his  lady's  domicile,  that  an  inexperienced 
dancer  places  himself  to  his  partner,  when  he  has  either  pas- 
tourelled  it  too  much,  or  pirouetted  it  too  little,  in  a  quadrille. 
There  was  now  a  general  shaking  of  hands — a  little  female 
kissing  between  bosom  friends.  "  Good-by,  Anna  ;"  "  a 
ploasant  day,  Anna;"    and,   "upon  my  word,  Mr.  Jenkins 


THE  OXONIANS.  203 

looks  very  well ;"  with  other  hastily  uttered  sentences,  mingled 
with  the  leave-taking.  A  run  to  the  glass  gave  the  assurance 
that  saucissons  were  all  in  order,  and  a  run  down  stairs  brought 
her  to  her  lover  ;  who,  too  careful,  or  too  fearful,  of  his  horse, 
to  look  up  to  the  window,  as  he  drove  down  the  street,  now 
for  the  first  time  gave  his  dulcinea's  lilac  spencer  and  pink 
plumes  a  look  of  approbation.  Too  sensible  to  quit  his  seat, 
and  leave  his  horse  at  liberty,  through  any  mistaken  polite- 
ness ;  he  yet  ventures,  for  once,  to  transfer  the  reins  to  his 
whip  hand,  as  too  many  are  apt  to  do  when  a  favourite  female 
is  in  the  way,  while  he  stretched  out  the  other  by  way  of  as- 
sistance to  his  fair  companion.  She  placed  her  kid-coloured 
palm  in  his,  and  her  foot  on  the  step  ;  one  jerk  seated  her  in 
the  valley  formed  between  the  driving  seat  and  the  side  of  the 
gig ;  a  httle  adjustment  arranged  her  garment  modestly  over 
the  pretty  silk  clad  ancles ;  a  corner  of  the  aforesaid  cloak 
gave  its  military  protection  against  any  accidental  jolt,  or  ze- 
phyr ;  the  parasol  was  waved  up  to  the  window  by  way  of  a 
last  adieu  ;  a  few  admonitory  touches  of  the  whip,  very  care- 
fully administered,  accompanied  by  a  ya-up,  soon  induced  the 
nag  to  put  himself  out  of  a  stand-still,  and  off  they  started  ; 
the  charioteer  prudently  deferring  his  how  d'ye  do's,  and  other 
greetings,  till  he  should  have  got  off  the  stones,  and  be  in  a 
good  wide  road,  where  he  is  in  less  danger  of  coming  in  con- 
tact with  any  rival  Sunday  jockey. 

The  attention  of  the  party  was  now  arrested  by  the  appear- 
ance of  a  glass-coach,  or  rather  a  hackney-coach  without  its 
number,  which  now  slowly  drew  up  to  the  door.  From  this 
carriage  sprang  three  young  men,  in  readiness  to  hand  their 
respective  demoiselles  into  the  vehicle,  the  hire  of  which  had 
been  clubbed  at  seven  shillings  each,  so  that  they  had  none  of 
the  cares  of  driving  on  their  hands,  to  impede  their  impatience 
or  politeness. 

One  of  these  new  comers  had,  like  our  tilbury  friend,  a  dash 
of  the  military,  and  was  accordingly  habited  in  a  blue  frock- 
coat,  the  edges  and  seams  covered  with  black  lace,  at  which  his 
mistress  always  looked  when  she  favoured  him  with  the  air  of 
"Should  he  upbraid;"  while  something  resembling  a  duck's 
tail,  but  without  its  power  of  wagging,  dangled  at  the  bottom 
of  his  back.  His  black  cravat  is  neatly  fastened  by  two  tur- 
quoise pins,  chained  together  as  strongly  as  man  and  wife, 
while  his  heels  display  a  pair  of  spurs,  which  gave  their  master 
the  character  of  keeping  a  horse,  without  its  attendant  expense 
of  rack  and  manger — for  spurs  eat  nothing. 


204  THE   OXOMAKS. 

The  second  was  of  another  order  of  beings — called,  a  swell. 
He  was  clothed  in  top-boots,  white  corduroys,  a  waistcoat 
scored  like  a  leg  of  pork,  iind  a  rough  drab  toggray,  buttoned 
across  the  chest  with  mother-of-pearl  buttons  of  the  size  of 
crown  pieces,  while  a  horse  and  jockey  appear  to  be  galloping 
over  the  ponderous  folds  of  his  shawl  neckcloth,  by  way  of 
broach. 

The  third  beau  was  a  complete  contrast  to  the  second  ;  for 
having  by  some  accident  heard  tliat  stockings  were  dress,  he 
appears  ready-dressed  for  dinner  at  eight  in  the  morning, 
with  blue  coat  thrown  open,  white  waistcoat,  black  trowsers, 
and  ribbed  silk  stockings, 

Adieux  were  soon  uttered  to  the  remaining  friends.  The 
looking-glass  was  once  more  put  in  requisition,  the  door  flew 
open,  and  the  belles  and  beaux  greeted  each  other  by  hearty 
shakes  of  the  hand.  They  were  soon  hurried  into  the.  coach, 
which  wriggled  with  their  settlement  into  the  seat,  and  proved 
what  one  of  the  females  of  the  party  called  a  "tight  fit." 
The  swell  cried  out,  "All  right,  Jarvey!"  The  coachman 
woke  from  his  momentary  doze,  and  the  patient  horses  walked 
off  in  a  trot. 

A  prim,  smirking-looking  gentleman,  seated  exactly  in  the 
centre  of  a  hackney-chariot,  and  of  his  shirt  collar,  the  points 
of  which  endangered  his  eyes  at  every  jolt ;  and  most  carefully 
avoiding  any  contact  between  the  dirty  lining  of  the  vehicle 
and  his  well-brushed  coat,  carries  ofl"  a  fifth  ;  while  a  short, 
thick-set,  middle-aged  man,  with  a  blue  coat  of  dimensions 
sufiiciently  ample  for  any  two  modern  habits,  his  pockets  look- 
ing like  panniers,  his  corporation  covered  with  an  acre  of 
black  serge,  which  "the  least  taste  in  life"  of  Irish  linen, 
divided  from  a  pair  of  nankeen  trowsers  that  reached  to  the 
middle  of  his  white  cotton  stockings,  by  his  diagonal  crossing, 
seemed  to  direct  his  steps  to  the  same  house.  But  one  now 
remained  besides  Caroline,  and  her  white  beaver  bonnet  was 
thrown  back  with  disappointment,  as  she  exclaimed,  "  dear 

mei  here's  Pa,  instead  of "     The  name  died  on  her  lips. 

The  elderly  gentleman  was  the  only  one  who  was  compelled 
to  knock  at  the  door,  or  who  was  kept  for  a  moment  waiting. 

*'  Well,  good-by,  Miss  Dormer !  sorry  to  leave  you  alone  so 
solentary,"  was  uttered  in  a  tone  of  sympathy,  and  with  a  little 
more  feeling  than  if  she  had  been  fetched  by  her  lover  instead 
of  her  father.  She  tripped  slowly  down  stairs,  opened  the 
door,  and  found  her  hand  suddenly  twitched  unJer  her  Papa's 
arm,  and  tightly  confined  between  the  elbow  and  the  rib ; 


THE    OXONIANS.  205 

while  the  ideas  of  the  Park  and  Kensington  Gardens  fade 
before  the  prospect  of  the  parish  church  or  meeting  house,  and 
a  dull  cup  of  tea  in  the  parlour  behind  the  shop. 

This  young  lady's  mamma  had  been  in  the  same  line  with 
her  daughter  in  her  younger  days,  and  from  her  recollections 
of  what  happened  to  herself,  made  her  good  man  go  after 
*' their  Sophy,"  to  preserve  her  from  the  same  perils.  The 
good  woman  herself  is  too  prudent  to  mention  her  reasons  ibr 
this  caution,  which  are  perhaps  too  well  guessed  by  the  hus- 
band— "  experientia  docet." 

Caroline  was  now  left  alone.  She  had  been  too  much 
occupied  by  her  own  thoughts  to  share  in  the  hilarity  of  her 
companions,  which  was,  however,  at  all  times  quite  dissonant 
with  her  ideas  of  pleasure.  She  had,  however,  cheerfully  con- 
tributed her  assistance  to  the  toilet,  and  with  sincerity  wished 
them  the  pleasant  day  they  expected;  though  she  could 
scarcely  prevent  a  smile  of  contempt  from  playing  upon  her 
full  red  lip  as  she  contemplated  their  vulgar  delights.  As  she 
lost  sight  of  her  last  companion  she  began  slowly  to  complete 
her  own  toilet,  for  which  she  had  sufficient  leisure,  since 
several  hours  were  yet  to  elapse  before  her  politer  lover  would 
be  in  readiness  to  receive  her.  Caroline  needed  not  much 
of  the  "  foreign  aid  of  ornament ;"  her  beauty  was  of  (hat 
cast  which  derives  no  aid  from  decoration  ;  the  simpler  her 
attire  the  better  she  appeared,  and  the  simplicity  as  well  as 
correctness  of  her  own  taste,  taught  her  that  she  was,  "  when 
unadorned  adorned  the  most."  Female  vanity  is,  however, 
never  entirely  asleep  upon  this  point  ;  and  as  her  features 
were  reflected  in  the  mirror,  she  could  not  help  feeling  the 
advantageous  contrast  which  their  regularity  and  expression 
exhibited,  to  the  red,  white,  and  plump  cheeks  of  her  com- 
panions. Theirs  was  the  beauty  of  health,  hers  that  of  senti- 
ment. 

There  was  the  dark,  liquid  eye  and  blood-red  lip,  that 
bespeak  a  soul  of  deep  feeUng  ;  the  large  ivory  forehead,  over 
which  hung  long  curls  of  raven  black  hair,  that  reached  to  and 
rested  upon  the  bosom — rendered  whiter  by  the  contrast;  the 
pale  cheek,  that  never  exhibited  the  colour  of  the  rose,  unless 
called  there  by  passion  and  feeling  ;  the  arched  and  dark  brow  ; 
were  all  of  that  species  of  female  loveliness  which  an  artist 
would  have  selected  to  portray  a  Gulnare  ;  and  which,  in  the 
higher  walks  of  life,  would  have  given  their  possessor  a  place 
in  that  Gallery  of  Beauty  which  the  ''  on  dits"  of  the  day  say 
Vol.  I.— 18 


206  TUE  OXOOTANS. 

is  preparing,  to  rival  those  which  graced  a  gallery  of  the  same 
(lescriplion  in  the  time  of  Cliarles  the  Second. 

Little  as  Caroline  had  to  do  at  her  dressing  table,  she  yet 
lingered  over  her  toilet,  eking  out  all  its  minor  occupations,  so 
as  to  lessen,  as  much  as  possible,  the  hours  that  she  should 
have  to  wait,  between  the  time  of  its  completion  and  the 
coming  of  her  lover.  At  length,  however,  every  pin  was 
placed  ;  every  fold  adjusted  :  there  no  longer  remained  an 
ex'cuse  for  another  moment's  lingering.  Casting,  therefore, 
one  more  look  in  the  glass  ;  taking  up  her  bonnet,  and,  throw- 
ing her  shawl  over  her  arm,  she  descended  to  the  first  floor, 
which,  serving  as  a  show-room  all  the  week,  was  set  apart  as 
the  young  ladies'  drawing-room  on  Sundays. 

Just  as  she  entered  the  room,  the  striking  of  St.  James's 
clock  forced  upon  her  mind  the  painful  recollection  of  the 
length  of  time  that  must  still  elapse  before  Hartley  was  to 
come  ;  and,  for  a  moment  she  envied  her  companions,  at 
least,  the  early  rising  of  their  lovers. 

After  pacing  the  room,  a  little  impatiently,  a  few  times,  and 
casting  an  anxious  glance  at  the  window,  as  a  few  light  clouds 
would  now  and  then,  for  a  moment,  obscure  the  sun  ;  she 
threw  herself  upon  the  sopha  with  a  determination  to  wait 
with  patience  ;  and,  who  is  there  that  has  not  frequently  made 
this  resolution,  and  as  frequently  broken  it  ?  Still  Caroline's 
heart  beat  violently  :  she  trembled,  siie  knew  not  why,  at  the 
step  she  was  about  to  take  ;  and  more  than  once  wavered  in 
her  purpose.  But  then  came  over  her  the  recollection  of 
Hartley's  love ;  the  fear  of  his  anger ;  the  knowledge  of  his 
honour  and  prudence  ;  and,  above  all,  her  own  knowledge  and 
confidence  in  her  own  innocence  ;  and  she  could  not  bear  to 
inflict  upon  him  the  pain  of  disappointment,  and  perhaps  did 
not  like  to  bear  it  herself.  Besides,  it  was  but  a  drive  for  an 
hour  or  two ;  and  poor  Hartley  had  behaved  so  well,  and 
undergone  such  privations  lately  ;  and  then  Fanny  Thompson 
would  be  sure  to  be  well  by  the  next  Sunday  ;  and  this,  there- 
fore, was  the  only  time  there  would  be  a  necessity  for  her 
seeing  him  alone.  Still  it  was  breaking  through  a  resolution, 
founded  upon  her  ideas  of  the  preservation  of  sclf-resj)ect ; 
and  she  was  uneasy. 

The  sudden  tolling  of  the  bell  for  church  recalled  to  her 
mind,  at  this  moment,  all  her  long-forgotten  duties.  There 
was  an  association  in  the  sound  wilii  all  her  recollections  of 
early  days,  when  it  was  the  signal  for  her  father  and  herself, 


THE   OXONIANS.  207 

to  pursue  their  quiet  path  across  the  meadows  that  led  to  his 
parish  church.  There,  she  was  wont  to  help  him  to  robe  in 
the  vestry,  with  the  assistance  of  the  aged  clerk,  who  had  cried 
Amen  in  the  same  desk  for  nearly  sixty  years.  The  pleasant 
meads ;  the  meandering  stream  that  ran  through  them  ;  the 
peasantry  dotting  their  hats,  and  bobbing  their  courtesies,  as 
they  passed  ;  the  vestry,  with  its  bare  walls  and  heavy-mul- 
lioned  windows,  almost  obscured  by  the  thick  clusters  of 
ivy  which  time  had  created  there  ;  the  trembling  hand  of  old 
Adam,  as  he  assisted  her  in  putting  on  the  surplice  :  and, 
above  all,  the  holy  quiet  of  the  humble  church,  as  she  slid 
silently  into  her  pew,  and  sunk  upon  the  hassock  in  a  moment- 
ary prayer  of  preparation  ;  all  came  over  her  mind  with  an 
intensity,  and  seemed  to  lie  before  her  with  a  vividness,  that, 
contrasting  it  with  the  present  tumult  of  her  heart,  she  buried 
her  face  with  her  hands,  and  burst  into  tears. 

As  she  recovered  from  this  burst  of  feeling,  her  eyes  rested 
upon  some  books  of  devotion,  which  lay  mingled  with  some 
novels  on  the  mantle-shelf.  She  recollected  the  consolation 
she  had  derived  from  their  perusal  in  the  two  great  griefs  of 
her  life — the  death  of  her  parents  and  her  supposed  desertion 
by  Hartley  ;  and  she  attempted  to  read  them  now,  but  their 
eflect  was  lost.  Her  heart  was  cold  to  the  influence  of  religion. 
The  same  subject  was  tasteless  in  the  present  state  of  her  mind, 
and  she  again  sat  absorbed  in  her  own  feelings  of  mingled 
impatience  for  her  lover's  coming,  and  fear  of  his  arrival.  At 
length  one  of  those  seducing  volumes  in  boards,  with  Andrews's 
name  en  the  back,  yclept  a  novel,  attracted  her  notice,  and 
taking  the  book  from  the  shelf,  she  sat  down  to  it  doggedly, 
with  the  determination  to  read.  The  subject  of  this  book  was 
more  in  accordance  with  the  state  of  her  mind.  It  was  tho 
history  of  a  love  not  unlike  her  own,  and  she  soon  became  in- 
terested in  the  fate  of  the  heroine,  and  fancied  a  similar 
denouement  in  her  own  case.  That  clock,  however,  which 
during  her  im[)atience  had  given  such  painful  note  of  the  slow 
progress  of  time,  at  length  struck  the  three  quarters  ;  she 
listened  in  vain  for  the  fourth  ;  but  no ;  there  were  still  fifteen 
minutes  to  elapse.  But  Hartley  was  generally  early ;  gene- 
rally before  his  time.  The  book  was  thrown  away.  The  hat 
and  scarf  were  laid  where  they  could  be  the  more  readily 
seized  when  wanted.  Her  movements  up  and  down  the  rooni 
now  became  quicker  ;  vjhier  glances  out  of  the  window  were 
no  longer  directed  to  the  sky ;  at  the  rattle  of  every  carriage 
Bhc  involuntarily  approached  the  balcony  ;  and,  as  it  passed, 


208  THK    0X0MATC5. 

and  its  sound  died  away  in  the  distance,  so  faded  the  flush  of 
hope  from  her  countenance. 

"  No,  no,"  she  exclainried,  "  he  will  not  come  before  his 
time."  The  hour  itself  struck,  and  she  raised  her  hands  in 
thankfulness  that  the  painful  time  of  suspense  was  past. 

As  the  sound  of  the  clock  died  upon  her  ear,  a  sickening 
sensation  came  over  her ;  a  trembling  anticipation  that  he 
might  not  come  ;  and  in  that  moment  of  agitation  she  felt,  for 
the  first  time,  how  ardently  she  loved  Hartley.  She  now 
listened  and  looked  with  an  eagerness  that  was  painful  to 
both  sight  and  hearing,  and  almost  uttered  an  exclamation  of 
joy,  as  she  saw  the  cabriolet  turn  the  corner  of  the  ^street. 
The  calash  was  up  to  its  fullest  extent  of  concealment ;  nothing 
was  discernible  from  within  but  the  dove-coloured  kid  gloves 
of  the  driver,  dexterously  and  gently  managing  the  fine  high- 
spirited  bay,  whose  veins,  starting  through  his  silky  skin,  pro- 
claims the  excellence  of  his  blood,  while  his  bone  renders  it 
rather  questionable,  whether,  like  some  of  our  noble  families, 
he  has  not  had  it  strengthened  from  some  source  not  quite  so 
pure  as  that  of  his  ancestry. 

As  sne  glanced  at  the  well-appointed  equipage,  she  could 
not  help  for  a  moment  drawing  a  comparison  between  the  ele- 
gant cabriolet  of  her  lover,  and  the  dislocated  tilbury  of  her 
humbler  companion.  It  was,  however,  but  the  thought  of  a 
moment,  or  only  ser<'ed  to  remind  her  of  the  greater  difference 
between  herself  and  her  lover;  and  Hartley  would  have  been 
all  in  all  to  her,  had  he  possessed  no  equipage,  and  nothing 
but  himself  and  his  affections  to  give  her. 

Her  scarf  was  now  hurriedly  and  carelessly  thrown  over  her 
shoulder ;  her  bonnet  loosely  tied,  without  even  an  appeal  to 
the  glass  ;  and  she  rushed  to  the  door.  As  the  clock  struck 
the  quarter,  however,  she  paused  for  a  moment :  female  pride 
seemed  to  have  a  temporary  influence  over  her,  and  she  deter- 
mined Hartley  should  not  perceive  her  impatience. 

A  few  minutes,  however,  brought  her  to  the  carriage,  which 
was  carefully  drawn  up  close  to  the  curb  in  the  quiet  of  St 
James's  square ;  the  ponderous  knee-board  opened,  and  the 
next  moment  she  was  seated  by  the  side  of  her  lover,  panting 
with  the  agitation  of  pleasure,  mingled  with  the  fear  of  having 
been  seen.  The  knee-board  was  closed,  Caroline  drew  the 
oilt-kin  curtain,  so  as  to  render  the  concealment  a  little  more 
effectual,  and  the  steed,  obedient  to  the  rein,  started  at  a  brisk 
pace. 
^  A  rapid  trot  of  a  few  miles  cleared  them  from  all  the  d  ust 


THE   OXONIANS.  209 

and  incumbrances  which  the  metropolitan  roads  generally 
exhibit  on  a  Sunday,  and  they  found  themselves  in  a  retired 
spot  with  a  beautiful  country  before  them. 

The  horse  was  now  reined  in,  the  oilskin  curtain  drawn 
aside,  and  the  calash  thrown  one  fold  back,  so  as  to  give  them 
air,  and  a  better  view  of  the  scenery  by  which  they  were  sur- 
rounded- They  had  now  time  for  their  mutual  greetings  ; 
and  Hartley  was  more  than  usually  animated  in  his  expressions 
of  delight  at  their  being  together  again  in  all  the  confidence  of 
mutual  intercourse.  Carohne  blushed,  and  smiled  her  sym- 
pathy with  him  in  this  feeling  ;  and  had  certainly  never  looked 
so  beautiful  in  the  eyes  of  her  lover.  His  presence  had  driven 
away  all  the  presentiments  by  which  she  had  been  oppressed, 
her  spirits  became  exhilarated,  she  openly  expressed  the  happi- 
ness of  her  heart,  and  abandoned  herself  to  the  innocent  enjoy- 
ment of  the  moment. 

In  Caroline's  ideas,  the  sun  had  never  shone  so  brilliantly  ; 
the  sky  never  looked  so  bright ;  the  flowers  never  bloomed  so 
freshly  and  sweetly  as  they  did  on  that  day.  She  discovered  a 
thousand  beauties  in  the  landscape,  which  had  before  escaped 
her  observation ;  all  things  took  their  colour  from  the  com- 
plexion of  her  own  mind ;  and  that  was  so  filled  with  pleasure 
and  happiness,  that  every  thing  was  "  couleur  de  rose."  In 
this  state  of  enjoyment,  they  proceeded,  chatting,  laughing, 
and  sighing  by  turns  ;  and  neither  of  them  regretting  the 
absence  of  Fanny  Thompson,  who,  with  her  rheumatic  fever, 
appeared  to  have  been  entirely  forgotten,  till,  arriving  at  the 
brow  of  a  hill,  the  horse  himself  stopped  to  remind  his  master 
that  a  cabriolet  was  not  a  tilbury  ;  and  Hartley  permitted  him 
to  rest,  that  he  and  Caroline  might  enjoy,  at  their  leisure,  the 
beauty  of  the  extensive  prospect  before  them. 

It  was  a  lovely  day  in  the  commencement  of  June ;  the 
summer  sun  shone  splendidly,  and  lighted  up  with  its  rays  the 
rippling  waves  of  our  noble  river,  that  flowed  majestically  in 
the  distance.  The  cattle  had  sought  a  shelter  in  the  shade; 
every  thing  bespoke  that  stillness  which  is  only  felt  on  a  sum- 
mer's day.  Nothing  living  was  to  be  seen  except  the  fly,  whose 
buzzing  rather  added  to  than  disturbed  the  repose  of  the 
scene  ;  while  the  new-mown  hay,  strewed  lightly  over  the 
surrounding  meadows,  or  gathered  into  cocks,  sent  a  delicious 
perfume  through  the  air,  that  stole  over  the  senses  with  a 
degree  of  voluptuousness,  which  those  only  can  conceive  who 
have  experienced  its  eflfects. 

As  Caroline  contemplated  the  scene  before  her,  and  felt  its 


210  TUE   OXONIANS. 

calmness ;  as  she  looked  at  the  humble  village  which  lay  at  their 
feet,  and  saw  the  blue  smoke  curling  and  mingling  with  the 
clear  etljer  of  the  atmosphere,  as  it  rose  througii  the  patches 
of  plantation  in  whicii  the  cottages  were  situated  ;  a  wish  stole 
over  her  mind  that  she  could  be  the  inhabitant  of  one  of  them 
■with  Hartley  for  her  companion.  At  this  wish,  and  the  know- 
lodge  of  its  futility,  a  sigh  escaped  her  bosom,  and  her  dark 
eye  tilled  with  a  tear,  which  might  have  found  its  way  down  her 
cheek,  had  not  Hartley  stopped  it  at  its  source,  as  lovers  some- 
times do  stop  their  mistresses'  tears  when  they  are  permitted 
to  do  so.  Here  these  lovers  seemed  as  though  they  could  lin- 
ger for  ever ;  the  horse  was,  however,  no  lover,  and  betrayed 
liis  impatience  to  proceed  by  sundry  snortings  and  pawings  ; 
and  on  Hartley's  representing  the  real  necessity  for  giving  him 
a  few  minutes'  rest  and  some  food,  Caroline  consented  to  de- 
scend the  hill  to  the  village  that  lay  at  its  foot,  instead  of  im- 
mediately turning  back  agreeably  to  her  first  proposition  ;  for 
she  could  not  bear  the  idea  of  distressing  a  noble  animal  who 
performed  his  duty  so  well. 

In  the  most  beautiful  spot  of  this  retired  village,  a  little  re- 
moved from  the  rest  of  the  houses,  a  little  inn  was  designated 
by  tlie  caricature  of  a  lamb  which  swung  backwards  and  for- 
wards from  a  high  post  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  road.  It 
was  a  neat,  while,  cottage-looking  house,  with  green  verandahs 
along  its  front  and  sides,  and  the  whole  displaying  an  appear- 
ance of  domestic  comfort  that  induced  them  to  alight  wJiile 
the  horse  was  taken  to  the  stable  to  be  dressed  ;  an  operation 
which  Hartley  said  was  absolutely  necessary. 

An  obsequious,  flit,  and  good-natured  landlady  ushered  them 
into  a  parlour  at  the  back  part  of  the  inn,  which,  hanging  over 
a  gentle  trout  stream,  commanded  one  of  the  prettiest  pros- 
pects of  the  surrounding  country.  This  parlour  was  furnished 
in  a  style  very  far  superior  to  any  thing  indicated  by  the  outside 
of  the  inn.  There  was  almost  every  luxury  which  graces  a 
modern  drawing-room,  although  in  a  rustic  form.  This  was  ac- 
counted for  by  the  landlady's  telling  them  that  it  was  used  as  a 
fishing  house  during  the  season  by  some  veteran  disciples  of  old 
Isaac  Walton,  who  valued  their  comfort  as  much  as  their  fish- 
ing. The  whole  had  indeed  such  an  air  of  neatness,  snugness, 
and  comfort,  that  it  was  enough  to  tempt  the  stay  of  any  stray 
traveller  who  happened  to  harbour  there  ;  and  a  knowing  per- 
son would'have  easily  imagined  that  this  was  not  Hartley's  first 
visit,  though  he  expressed  quite  as  much  swprise  at  the  ap- 
pearance of  the  place  as  Caroline  herself. 


THE    OXOINIANS.  211 

The  clock  now  announced  an  hour  so  late  that  it  was  im- 
possible for  Caroline  to  think  of  getting  back  in  any  time  for 
the  family  dinner,  which  was  always  provided  in  the  establish- 
ment ;  and  she  was  at  length  prevailed  upon  by  Hartley  to 
allow  him  to  order  that  meal  for  them  there,  which  the  officious 
landlady  promised  should  be  got  ready  wiiile  they  took  a  stroll 
through  the  meadows. 

This  arrangement  completed,  arm  in  arm,  and  sometimes,  in 
the  more  retired  spots,  even  more  familiarly,  they  wandered  for 
a  short  delicious  hour  by  the  side  of  the  stream  that  ran  through 
the  village  ;  now  contemplating  the  prospect — now  anticipa- 
ting future  happiness,  though  never  forgetting  the  enjoyment 
of  the  present.  Hartley  was  more  tender,  more  respectful  than 
usual — Caroline  more  loving,  more  confiding.  Their  hearts 
seemed  wrapped  up  in  each  other ;  and  certainly  that  of  Ca- 
roline had  not  another  feeling,  nor  her  imagination  another 
thought,  but  those  she  experienced  for  her  lover.  She  hung 
upon  his  arm  ;  she  listened  to  his  accents  ;  she  smiled  her  ap- 
probation of  his  sprightlier  sallies,  and  her  eye  suffused  with 
tears,  and  her  cheeks  flushed  with  a  maiden's  pleasure  at  his 
tender  protestations  ;  and  thus  they  wandered  on,  till  the  sig- 
nal from  the  village  inn  recalled  them  to  their  dinner  in  the 
delightful  little  parlour,  rendered  still  more  pleasant  by  the  mur- 
muring of  the  stream  that  rolled  its  clear  waves  beneath  its 
windows. 

********* 

The  moon  was  shining  brightly  in  the  dark  blue  sky,  with  its 
light  now  and  then  hid  by  the  gossamer  clouds  that  hurried 
over  it,  when  Hartley's  cabriolet  was  seen  slowly  returning 
through  one  of  the  green  lanes  which  it  had  perambulated  in 
the  morning.  The  horse  was  as  prancing  and  spirited  as  at 
the  commencement  of  the  journey  ;  but  a  cloud  had  come 
over  the  happiness  of  those  whom  he  was  bearing  to  their 
homes.  Hartley  was  silent  and  thoughtful ;  his  face  appeared 
.lushed  ;  and  he  sometimes  checked  his  steed  with  an  impa- 
tience that  betrayed  some  internal  agitation.  Caroline  had 
sunk  into  the  corner  of  the  cabriolet ;  her  face  was  buried  in 
her  handkerchief,  and  her  bosom  heaved  with  convulsive  sobs. 
If  for  a  moment  her  bashful  eye  fell  upon  the  clear  white  light 
of  the  moon,  she  shrunk  from  it  as  though  ashamed  to  meet  its 
rays.  Tlie  passage  of  the  clouds,  wliich  created  a  moment's 
darkness,  seemed  a  relief.  She  would  then  shrinkingly  ap- 
proach Hartley,  lay  her  beating  temple  on  his  shoulder,  and 
appear  to  seek  his  protection  as  the  only  blessing,  the  only 


212  THE   OXONIANS. 

safety  left  her  in  the  wide  world.  A  pressure  of  the  haTid  or 
of  the  head  tenderly  against  his  bosom  was  the  only  reply  he 
made  to  this  silent  appeal. 

As  the  cabriolet  approached  town,  and  as  the  lamp-lighted 
streets  met  her  eyes,  she  sobiied  more  convulsively  ;  but  by  a 
great  effort  overcame  her  agitation  as  she  drew  near  her  home. 
At  length  the  cabriolet  stopped  ;  the  time  of  the  parting  now 
came  ;  a  moment  or  two  elapsed  before  Caroline  could  sum- 
mon sufficient  courage  to  leave  the  carriage.  One  convulsive 
grasp  of  the  hand,  and  a  mutual,  scarcely  articulated  "  God 
bless  you,"  was  all  that  passed.  Strange  anomaly  !  the  victim 
and  her  destroyer  calling  down  the  blessing  of  the  Almighty 
on  each  other. 

Hartley  lashed  his  steed  almost  into  a  gallop.  Caroline 
hurried  to  the  door  of  her  residence.  She  slid  by  the  servant 
who  admitted  her,  and  stole  in  darkness  to  her  bed  ;  glad  that 
the  lateness  of  the  hour  enabled  her  to  do  so  unperceived  by 
her  companions,  who  were  long  since  reposing  in  sound  slum- 
bers, fatigued  by  the  pleasures  of  the  day.  Here  she  again 
gave  way  to  her  grief,  and  wetted  her  pillow  with  the  bitterest 
tears  that  a  woman  can  shed.  The  clouds  had  passed  away, 
and  the  full  moon  shone  brightly  into  her  window  upon  her 
sleepless  eyes  ; 

But  none  shall  see  the  day, 
When  the  clouds  shall  pass  away, 
Which  that  dark  hour  left  on  the  maiden's  name. 


END    OF    VOL.    1. 


UNIVERSITY  OF  ILUNOIS-URBANA 


30112  041390649 


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